Kim Possible: The Darkness Without: redux
by eoraptor
Summary: The re-release of my dark KP story. Set 2 years after the end of the Kim Possible series, Kim and Ron head to Chicago to examine plots for GJ, but all is not as it seems after Kim's funeral and the promotion of one of GJ's top Agents. New Scene chap 11!
1. Chapter 1

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

Redux

Pt 1

By Eoraptor

**Boring but important legal stuff**: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

**More boring but important stuff**: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT!

**Less Boring and Still Important Stuff**: This work is inspired by and based on the fan artwork and concept, "The Green Wraith is You" by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art, you can find the link on my author's page.

**Author's Notes:** This is set in the year or two after season four of the TV series and the two movies. It's set during what would be Team Possible's college years. While I want to keep the fun and whit of the series, it as mentioned above based on a darker fan art piece and thus is not targeted towards the series intended young-teen/teen audience. I hope I can strike some kind of balance, but please keep in mind, death, bloodshed, terrorism, sexuality, etc, are not really topics tackled by this or any Disney series. For NEW thoughts (much abbreviated) see the end of this and other chapters.

Now, on with the Story...

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

A familiar four note tone trilled in a purse hanging from the arm of a redhead who was quickly walking from the campus proper to one of the outlaying auditoriums. A warm familiar smile graced the lightly painted lips of Kimberly Anne Possible as she pulled the gleaming blue smart phone out of her purse and clicked the answer button. After a moment of static, a familiar, but slightly more mature face appeared on the small screen.

"Hey Wade, what's the sitch?" Kim smiled at one of the faces she just didn't get to see as often as she liked these days.

Wade Loade was sixteen and becoming a handsome, and rapidly slimming, young man. When Kim and her cohorts had first started saving the world, he'd been a ten year old prodigy who'd already completed his own high school education. Now that people were off in the so-called real world, he was busy consulting for Microsoft, and getting his Drivers License. Further proof that he was no longer a gifted shut-in were the stubble on his chin, and the firm biceps that bespoke his new hobbies that required the use of his hands as more than a conduit from brain to keyboard.

"Not much Kim, just got a hit on the site and it looks a little… …weird." 'The Site' of course, was kim possible _**dot**_ com, the easily mistyped website of a one-time babysitter for whom anything really was possible. It had been through several iterations over the years, but had been scaled back just a bit when Team Possible had to split up due to the pains of higher education. Not to say the famous redhead didn't still get jobs now and again.

"Weird like San Francisco, or weird like those emails I've been getting about male enhan…" Kim couldn't finish that with a straight face. She had to cover her mouth for a moment before she could suppress her giggle and continue.

Wade made a face and sighed. "I still don't understand why the university couldn't just install the filters I wrote for them… its only four million lines of code!"

Kim did giggle this time and again self-consciously covered her lips. "What can I say Wade, they'd rather buy the ones everyone else is using. Maybe you should ask your friend Bill about that one."

"Yeah yeah… he's retired. Anyway, the message is weird like not the first or the second… It says there's going to be a jewel heist at your school's natural history museum, the Peabody, _Tonight_! Sounds fishy to me."

Kim agreed with that whole heartedly and nodded at the kimmunicator in her palm. She ran a hand through her long red hair and looked up at the autumn sky over Cambridge, Mass, thinking about what her favorite techy had just told her.

Kim Possible had graduated Valedictorian from Middleton high almost two years ago, and had spent the last eighteen months doing semesters in Europe, America, and the Pacific Rim. Now she was doing an Ivy League stint, filling in her knowledge of law, and trying to live down her near-fame as the girl who could do anything, including stop alien invasions. She wasn't exactly fending off the paparazzi, but she wasn't an anonymous legal-aide student either. News always spread about her extra-curricular activities fighting comically over-wrought super villains and saving the world while balancing a full class load and social life.

"Well, you know we've gotten tips like that before… usually not a problem, just some spurned henchman ratting out the boss," she responded after a moment, looking back to her handheld.

Something in Wade's demeanor told Kim that he wasn't so sure. "All right… I'll look into it after scrum. Anything else? How's Shelly treating you?" Kim grinned faintly and knew that, despite his new social streak, plugging Wade for info on his personal life would still leave him a blushing sputtering mass of dark skin and curls. It was a good way to get him off her back about something.

"Um, she's great... gotta go now though, big uh… contract to work on…" the little screen on the kimmunicator, that marvel of smart phone design, winked out and she slipped it back into her purse. She resumed walking again along the path, heels clicking on the pavement and a renewed grin on her lips.

Kim couldn't help but giggle just a bit. Some things never changed. She ran her fingertips through her hair once more, and wondered yet again time how she did it all; Pre-law, intramural rugby, volunteering at the Center for Justice, dating, and taking on the occasional dare-devil mission pro-bono. It made high school seem like a cakewalk.

She sighed softly, the warm familiar grin on her lips as she wondered how Ron did it too. He was busy fulfilling his dream of being a chef in Chicago, also volunteering, being a running back in something called Arena-football, and occasionally flying out to follow her on missions. And despite it all, he was _still_ a clutz who managed to rip out his pants as often as he caught the bad guy. No titanium belt or mystical monkey powers seemed to be able to stop that for long.

Heels clicking away on the path and showing off her shapely legs under the prim business suit-dress, and with her pace light but brisk, she made her way to her next class.

A cell phone was picked up behind a newspaper along that path, "The message has been delivered."

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Several hours later, a blur of red, purple, and black dashed along the roof of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. The museum was renowned for its cultural studies, even if Wade had called it natural history museum, but thankfully it had the same flat industrial roof that most city buildings did. Kim peered through the skylight and down into the main exhibit hall of the museum. She'd been here an hour now, and had yet to find any evidence of a break-in having occurred.

Sighing softly, she sat back a bit, kicked at the asphalt gravel listlessly, and allowed her mind to drift ever-so slightly. She was enjoying Harvard, especially the rugby. She'd been head cheerleader at Middleton High, but she found she much preferred being the one being _cheered for. _Thankfully, here at the major university there was no shortage of official and unofficial womens' sport. Besides, it was much easier to stay in touch with Ron, the 'rents, the tweebs, and all her other friends when she was three time-zones away, not seven or more as she had been at Ikebana last year.

Ron's face, even in memory, brought a smile to her lips. It was true that they weren't formally an item any more… they'd agreed that it was just too hard with each globe-hopping, often now in different directions. Not that Kim minded having him on her arm at the clubs, or anywhere else for that matter; he was darned cute. He'd finally shed that Bueno Nacho belly the summer after high school, when he got his first "officially" solo mission in the afterglow of the Lorwardian sitch, making him that much cuter.

Then again, which mission was it he had really shed the belly for; the mission to Japan to stop a Monty Fisk wannabe, or the still incomplete mission to save "KP" from her panties? She blushed intently at the memory of _that_ set of bumbled entendre's and romantic gestures. Ron was sweet to a fault, so he'd understood when she said that she really wasn't ready to take their relationship past to that stage, but even he still made clumsy attempts once in a long while.

This brought a mild frown to the porcelain features of the pre-law student and globe-trotter. None of the young men she'd met in the past year had been nearly so sweet, and only two had been as understanding. Honestly, was romance really that difficult?

Kim was running her gloved hands over her face when she heard the footsteps crunching through the asphalt nearby. She leapt to her feet, more quietly than the steps approaching her, and just as quickly was crouched to attack or defend.

"Good evening Kimberly. It's been a while." Kim blinked. She knew that voice. But seven words was not a lot to put a face or name to a voice.

"Yeah, sure has…" she responded, trying to cover her confusion.

"About five years now? I think it was Christmas time."

A smile of recognition spread across Kim's face as she put the clipped, precise manner of speaking with a familiar face. Her suspicions were confirmed when a figure in a long dark blue coat, short brown hair, and a satin eye-patch came into the faint aura glowing from the museum skylight.

"Dr. Director… what brings you to Cambridge? Don't tell me you're here for the baked beans?" She smiled warmly, but she knew Betty Director didn't leave her office at Global Justice headquarters, wherever that was, without a darned good reason.

"Well, I wanted to personally offer you an assignment as my last official act as head of Global Justice." the older woman spoke quietly.

Kim looked at her in shock. Dr Director didn't seem that old, and she definitely didn't seem like the type to retire, quietly or otherwise.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

"Oh, Come on! He was so off sides!" Ron Stoppable was busy peeling himself up off of the Astroturf and yanking the ball out of his left earpiece. His brightly colored Arena football uniform was nearly as loud as the crowd in the arena as the Chicago Rush took on the Upperton Skyhawks. It was a grudge match for Ron, and the blonde haired running back was really getting into it.

"I didn't see it." The ref shrugged off his protests as Ron pulled the pigskin out of his earpiece and lined up again, snorting.

Ron was in Chicago to go to the Culinary Institute, but he was also still the record holder in Southern California for high school rushing yards, and Arena football paid the bills better than flipping burgers on his partial scholarship. Plus the travel occasionally came in handy for his _other_ career. KP seemed to like the new abs when they were in Morocco last month. He spared himself a brief grin before, "Hutt Hutt HUTT!"

"_Hitman Flagg drops back… He lets it fly- NO! It's a fake! Stoppable has the ball, he's at the fifteen, the ten, the five, Touchdown Rush!! Crazy Legs Ron has just tied the Arena League record for single season points scored rushing! The Chicago Hero Does It Again! He stops Aliens, and he stumps Defensive Ends! Congratulations Number 42!"_

"Boooh Yah!!" Ron spiked the ball and leapt into the fans just past the four foot padded wall that ringed the end zone. The indoor football stadium seemed to rattle with cheers and as pyrotechnics exploded in the rafters and rock music thumped out over the crowd. The celebration was short, as were all things in Arena, including the intervals between scorings on the fifty-yard indoor field.

As he returned to the line, he gave the thumbs up to a certain pink rodent that was running back and forth on the top of the padded wall that bounded the field.

"_booh yah_!" came the chipper little reply from the rodent that got more than a few odd looks as it scurried back and forth in its tiny Rush jersey with "00 – Rufus" on the back.

He stopped and looked a one of the front-row fans who didn't seem to be particularly excited by the play, despite his own Chicago jersey. Rufus made a sour face and ducked when the fan threw some nachos at him and then held his hand to his ear. The mole rat blew a raspberry at him and scurried on down the end-zone to hang out with the cheerleaders.

Ron dropped back this time as the ball was snapped, faking the D-line, and got another face full of artificial turf and bright blue face-mask for his trouble. A few seconds later the buzzer managed to sound out over the crowd along with a whistle from the ref, and more pyros went off as the game ended 62-48 Chicago.

"No, the secondary and his damned rat both seem to be very occupied at the moment… and there's another game on Tuesday where he'll go for some other record, I don't think we need to worry about him just yet."

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

"You look very well Kimberly; college life seems to agree with you…" Dr. Director smiled politely as she fished a smartphone out of her long coat's pocket.

Kim, for her part, was still trying to digest the words "last official act", and barely registered the compliment. "Dr. Director, is something wrong?"

Betty bit her lip for just a moment, and finally shook her head, the first few traces of silver appearing in her brown mop just above her brow, Kim noticed. "Nothing you need to be concerned with Miss Possible. Now, if you'd like to hold your Kimmunicator, I can send you the specifics of what we would like you to look into."

Kim did as asked, holding up Wade's most important creation. In just a moment, a green progress bar appeared and filled itself in. Then, after another moment, a familiar pair of mug shots appeared on the screen; one faintly green, the other decidedly blue.

"They're _still_ working together?" she said incredulously.

"They are, and they seem to have the biggest plot yet… it makes Diablo-bots look like tinker toys, or so I understand."

"You understand? I thought you knew all the plots everywhere, Dr. Director?" Kim watched the Director of Global Justice incredulously as she look down

"I've not been… at my best lately, Kimberly... that's why I'm retiring… but you'll be happy to know I'm being replaced by someone very capable. Not only is Agent… excuse me, Interim Director Will Du personally asking for you on this, he'll be your liaison as well for future communications.

Kim was not exactly thrilled. Her relationship with GJ was cordial, mostly thanks to Dr. Director's acceptance that she had no interest in joining them on a permanent basis. Yet Will Du, while he was a great bureaucrat, was no Betty Director. He wasn't the #1 field agent he was cracked up to be either, but that was beside the point. Still, maybe clothes made the man, so to speak… She hadn't seen Will in even longer than she'd seen Dr. Director. He could have changed from the snobbish by-the-book-worm he'd been when they'd last worked together.

"Well, I'm happy you found such a… capable replacement Dr. Director. I hope you'll understand if I take a few hours to look into this?" Director nodded a bit, but she seemed to be elsewhere at the moment mentally, and Kim noticed her good eye was looking up at the stars now, not at her. Kim frowned at that, but it wasn't polite to ask more about why she was out and Director Du was in. Either way, time was of the essence; in the World Saving game, there were no days to spare, and rarely were there hours.

"Of course Kimberly," came the response, after a moment of silence that had gone dangerously close to awkward, especially when that silence came from the usually precise Betty Director.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

A disturbingly blue face peered up from the hatch of the machine and beady eyes blinked, causing an ugly and prominent scar near the left one to pucker slightly. A hand protected by a thick black rubber lab-glove ran over his face and through the receding black hair crowning his head. He looked perplexed; as much as a man who couldn't keep the days of the week straight but could concoct death-rays from old watch parts could look perplexed anyway.

"Shego, have you been messing with the Trans-particle Vortex Recommbinator?" The recipient of that wordy question looked up, not bothering to mask her irritability as she filed away at a glistening metal talon attached to a vividly green glove. She simply sneered at her employer for a moment and returned to her filing.

"I wouldn't touch your precious trans-sexual whatchamacallit with a ten-foot pole Dr. D. Honestly, I don't know why you even bother… you haven't even gotten one of those things to work since you got paroled."

The irritable sneer on her lips briefly flashed to mischievously taunting grin as she remembered how she had broken out of prison twice and stayed on the outside, while he had to _be_ broken out months later only to be recaptured. Then, after that, he was paroled in a positively disgraceful moment for a working super-villain when it came out that trying to transform the San Francisco bay area into tapioca pudding, while a bad idea in principal, wasn't actually against the law.

With his plans sliding ever further into absurdity, her few joys these days came from draining Drakken's bank account while performing no actual work, and needling him. God, Kim Possible hadn't even shown up to their last plot, some Global Justice muscle had merely broken his latest toy, held him for questioning, and then let them go on their merry way. Drakken's slipping whit's showed in his appearance, he didn't seem to spend as much care on his precious lab jackets, or hair gel as he once had.

"TRANS-PARTICLE VORTEX RECOMMBINATOR." Drakken said in an odd manner which started haughtily and challenging, and faded to whining as he realized she wasn't even listening. "And there's a part here I don't remember putting in."

Shego looked up at the wayward scientist and her filing stopped for a moment. Drakken was many things, but he rarely was incautious about his inventions, at least during the construction phase…. Now when it came to operating them; that was another story. Her knees still quivered with the memory of the device created to make continents collide, and nearly being crushed under a metric ton of rubble when her erstwhile employer had cheaped out on construction costs for his college-cum-lair.

After a moment though, she shrugged off the ghost of concern and went back to her maintenance, blowing away some filings of dust and examining her handiwork. "You probably just stuck it in before you had your double frappucino this morning, Dr. Dork."

Drakken ran his hand over his face more irritably. Shego and he had worked together now for nearly seven years, but she was becoming more lippy by the day… He wondered why he bothered renewing her contract at such exorbitant rates. Now she wasn't even insulting him under her breath, it was right out in the open. Honestly, more of his budget was going to her increasing vacations and wardrobe than to his lair's lease and hench-contracts any more.

As usual, though, he deferred to her. "You're probably right… hand me that neutronium spanner would you?"

The sound of renewed filing, and the humming of a club song he knew he'd heard before but couldn't quite place were the response, and he groaned. He eyed the new box and its red light once more before retrieving the tool himself.

"call me beep me if you want to…" she half-sung to herself as she filed away.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_**Author's Additional Notes**_

_Yeah, I've cut WAY back on the Author's notes since the original version, huh? Short notes in addition to the disclaimer at the top: Not much in the way of changes made to this chapter aside from references to the series finale, which hadn't aired when this as originally written in April '07. Arena Football is still real (although it is played in the spring/summer and not the fall) The Chicago Rush made it all the way to the playoffs this year, though the Upperton Skyhawks are still fictitious._

_I'll leave the original version of __**"Darkness Without" **__up until all of this "redux" is finished. _


	2. Chapter 2

Four Weeks Later (probably the start of part two, where the real action begins)

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

Redux

Pt 2

By Eoraptor

**Boring but important legal stuff:** Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company ©2002-2007. Full disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1.

Now, on with the Story...

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

"KP!" and "_kim_!" were the twin calls that greeted her at the airport as she stepped off the plane and smiled broadly. The first came from a handsome blonde man with the beginnings of a goatee and a healthy tan for someone who spent his winters in Chicago. The second greeting came from what looked like a hotdog wearing an overcoat and watch cap. The hotdog leapt from the man's shoulder and bounded past several startled passengers before scurrying up Kim's leg and torso, and nuzzling her cheek.

Late October in Chicago had all of three of them bundled up four weeks after she'd gotten the call from Dr. Director, but it didn't block the warmth of the hug and kiss that Ron gave Kim when he caught up to Rufus. After a long moment of hugging that wasn't quite friendship, but wasn't quite more any longer either, he let go and took her bags from her. Not that the former cheerleader needed any help carrying luggage when she could lay low ten henchmen at a time, but it was the right thing for him to do.

"Looking good Ron… I like the goatee, doesn't make you look diabolical at all." She grinned a little and elbowed him as they walked to the car. Rufus, still perched on her shoulder , made stroking motions of his little chin as Kim giggled.

"You look amazing as always," Ron replied, letting the jibe slide as he smiled at her in return.

It was true, at least in his eyes. In the two years since high school Kim had blossomed into a young woman who could easily be making her living in Milan and Paris, instead of juggling classes and the occasional global-domination plot. Her red hair was now held in a long tight pony braid down to mid back; and it only helped draw attention, from Ron's and every other set of male eyes on the tarmac, down her slender back to the swell of a backside that could do far more than merely have quarters bounced off of it. The rest of the Possible physique was just as stunningly firm, but not overly muscular despite her night-time pursuits and the teeth she bashed in on the rugby field. Womanhood had graced his best friend with hips and breasts that only made her even more stunning than she'd been as a head cheerleader and secret agent in short skirts and tight clothes.

Ron admired her openly, but not lewdly, and Kim smiled in return in one of those not-entirely-awkward moments former romantic interests sometimes shared.

Ron, of course, had grown up too, aided by his semi-pro position with the Arena league, and the good food he was able to eat at the Culinary Institute. He'd become fairly well muscled, and their occasional forays to tropical climes had bronzed his once pale freckled skin. Still, his wasn't the frame most of the people in the terminal and parking-lot had been eyeing.

He blushed finally, and moved on to loading her things into the back of a third-hand SUV that ran about as well as it looked, which was to say that it probably did everything it needed to, as long as you had your tetanus shots up to date.

"God how things change huh? You're flying in coach on a little short ranger, and I'm picking you up in this POS… not exactly night flights on the Concorde and rappelling from Army helicopters is it?"

Kim chuckled a little self-consciously and had to nod in agreement. Things had changed a lot more than she liked to admit. While Team Possible still took the occasional assignment, it was more like once every three months than once every three days. This meant that a lot of her 'favors' had been used up and they were reduced to scrounging together the money for public transportation. "Well, Army Helicopters don't give you honey roast peanuts, do they?"

She smiled as Rufus's eyes lit up and he dove bodily into her purse, emerging a moment later triumphantly with a little bag of Planters. As he tore into the packet, she hopped into the passenger seat and buckled up. After a moment, she looked over at her best friend and partner of almost two decades.

"Hey KP, don't they make you pay for those things now?" Ron smiled lightly nonetheless as his little partner attacked the roasted treats.

"Do you miss it Ron? The really busy times chasing Drakken and DNAmy and the rest?" she asked after a moment.

"I don't miss the monkeys!" He grinned. He was more or less passed his simiaphobia, but it still brought back the warm memories of fighting alongside KP. Well, mostly running and screaming, but still being useful.

"Well, we still do it don't we? We're going after the gruesome twosome for the first time I n a while after all." He shrugged a bit as they pulled out of O'Hare and into traffic. He looked over at her with no small amount of concern while they were stopped at a light. "Why, is something going on KP?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Just feeling nostalgic I guess." Kim smiled a bit more wearily as they drove. "Did you know Dr. Director retired? A month ago, when she gave us this mission."

Ron blinked, but he had never been as up on the espionage stuff as KP and Wade. "Really, why?"

"She didn't say… but she didn't seem like her old self. I guess it's true, you really can't do this forever…" Kim looked down at her lap and sighed, twirling her fingers as Rufus patted the back of her hand supportively and handed her the last peanut.

"Oh Kim… We do- You do important work that helps people everywhere… Just because someone else retires, doesn't mean we don't have decades of fighting the good fight left in us… Booh yah!"

"_mmhmm mmhmm.. good fight!_" came the parroted response from her purse as Rufus held up a little fist defiantly.

Kim smiled warmly in that way only Kim Possible could, even though she still felt a little down. Then she grinned. She decided to shock Ron, and see if it would cheer herself up as well. "Hey Ron, is there a Bueno Nacho round here somewhere? I've got this mondo craving for Naco."

Ron blinked and looked at her like a third arm had just grown out of her forehead. Then a huge grin spread across his face. "Booh Yah! Hey little buddy, KP finally got some taste buds!"

"_cheese_!!" came Rufus' cry as he scurried up and held Kim's neck, looking over her shoulder and out the windows for the infamous Mexican chain restaurants.

Kim smiled more easily and giggled a bit as they headed on into the blustery afternoon.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Later that evening at the top of Sears Tower, right in the heart of downtown, all was not as quiet as it could have been. The usual dramatic lighting shown up the twin television masts atop the glass and steel building, but there was also an unearthly blue glow rolling back and forth near the base.

"Remind me what this trans-cultural whosit does again anyways?" Shego was lounging on the fence around the observation deck; her long lean body clung to dangerously by a green and black unitard that showed off every dangerous curve like a second skin. For once she was not filing down the talons on her green and black gloves, she was just… waiting. Waiting for the cops to show, or GJ, or the FBI, or anyone…

"I've told you before Shego… the Trans-partical Vortex Recommbinator… It opens a rift in space time and allows us to view any point in history, or the future for that matter…"

Shego rolled her eyes languidly. Sure, it sounded good, but so had many of Dr. D's plans in the beginning. "What good is viewing? Why can't we like… fuck with the moon landing, or steal Tutankhamen's treasure or something?"

Drakken blinked. He was certain he'd never heard Shego use foul language before; snarky and insulting yes, but crude, no. After a moment considering her, he continued, frowning with mild confusion. "Time Travel doesn't work that way Shego, if you change anything in the past, you don't have a future to return too… Heisenberg's Uncertainty…"

"Ahbububububu…" She held up one viciously clawed hand, making a very dangerous 'shushing' gesture. "I don't need the Nobel Prize committee thesis Dr. Dill Weed. Why do we have to be here then? Wouldn't this have worked just fine in our much safer… and _warmer_ hideout?"

"Because," he began again, slowly and more irritably, "We have to be on the highest structure around, at precisely midnight in order to avoid any kind of harmful interference."

"You mean like us?" If heroic entrance music could have played at that precise moment, it would have. "Prepare to be interfered with."

Drakken paled… well that is to say he became a lighter shade of blue. Shego looked over in surprised silence for a moment, a strange giddy feeling in her rising in her chest. There stood Kim Possible, her sidekick Ron Stoppable, and presumably the lump rolling about in one of his cargo pockets was the third member of the team, Rufus the naked mole rat. They were framed by the light of the elevator that had just deposited them on the observation deck, and looking pretty impressive.

The scene was straight out of an action comic book as Shego and Drakken took it in; the two heroes, now decidedly more muscular looking and purposeful then the last time either had seen them in San Fransisco, crouched in fighting stances as the door closed behind them and they became front-lit by the observation deck lights. Kim's formerly flowing red hair was tied back in a long braid, a heavy ring weighting it down at the end. Shego noted she filled out her purple tunic and tight black pants more suggestively than she had a few years ago. Obviously she'd been hitting the gym and not the college commissary.

The Doofus was looking pretty impressive too, she saw as she sized the pair up. She'd seen him on the TV a few weeks ago, but then he'd been hidden behind thick pads, not a form-fitting black turtleneck and cargo pants. He was pretty yoked up, and his hair was brushcut. She couldn't say much for the facial hair he was trying valiantly to grow, though. He could even prove to be a minor hindrance this time, if looks counted for anything.

A slow, dangerous grin spread across Shego's lips as she leapt from the fence and crouched on the deck, in front of Drakken and his pan-coital whoesit. She flexed her fingers slowly, a faint clicking heard as the metal talons moved. A second later, a green miasma roiled up over the mismatched pair of green and black gloves. It wasn't exactly a flame, but it wasn't exactly like boiling liquid either. Whatever it was, it was deadly dangerous, and lit her already faintly green skin to a much more vibrant shade.

"Kim Possible! I thought you retired…" Drakken sputtered for a moment as he took in the visage from the past before him. He obviously was at a loss for any further masterful villainy quips, since he stood there in the light from his device and stared at the trio.

"Not retired Drakken, just too busy for washed up death-ray jockeys like you two…" Kim's emerald eyes glinted as she grinned and watched him sputter even more at that, and listened to the way he made his thick black rubber gloves squeal as he ground and clenched his fists.

Finally, "Shego! Do your job and get them for once!"

"Hey there Princess, long time no see!" Shego's opening volley in their historic tet'a'tet was pretty bland, but she was still a little bit in shock at seeing these two looking much more like real crime-fighters than as the teens she remembered. She was also feeling a little bit excited at the thought of an actual challenge after so long. The excitement showed in her voice and her keen eyes as she crouched and flexed her fingers again.

"Ron, stop Drakken from activating that thing, Director Du said it generates some pretty harsh radiation. Shego and I need a lil time for girl talk." Kim's eyes never left Shego's as she gave instructions, and her own grin matched her rival's. Shego saw the dweeb vault off to one side in a surprisingly adept display, but her focus never left the foe before her.

"Oooh, is he still your cute, dorky little lover? High-school sweethearts are so sweet!" She laid it on saccharinely as she circled Kim. Without another moments notice a roiling green blast shot from one hand as she charged in, "But so two years ago!"

"What about you? Still working for Doctor Drakken? How nineties can you get?" Kim easily dodged the blast and charged as well, suddenly clasping her hands inside her taller foe's wrists and stopping her up cold. "Heck, you even jumped a full pardon to go back to him... who's lovers again?"

"Gah! Don't even joke! You're not still wearing that god-awful white suit under there are you?" Shego scowled at her redheaded nemesis as she was brought up short, surprisingly short in fact. Her eyes were still glinting with the excitement of fighting her only true equal once more, but they were hard now too, concentrating on the win.

"Nope, put that away a while ago, this is all me." Kim grinned as she struggled for dominance in the shoving match. Suddenly, she'd moved, and Shego's own pressing was rolling her forward at an alarming rate. Kim felt the sole of her boot in her opponent's gut satisfyingly as she catapulted Shego up and over her and towards the elevator door, away from Ron and Drakken.

"Gee Dr. D, you got old!" Ron blinked as he crouched in front of the device that was generating a spiraling blue vortex, just as its name implied. He wasn't in his old overly exaggerated monkey-fu pose, but was looking much more serious, shoulders rolling and clenching his own fingers as he easily backed the blue-skinned scientist up with intimidation.

It was true, at least to Ron's eyes. Drakken was a little more hunched than usual, and the white streak in his hair was far more pronounced than it had been in San Francisco. His blue and black lab coat also seemed just a bit dingier than usual. The scar tugged at the edge of his face again as he scowled at Ron.

"Old! Why you little…!" Drakken hissed and yanked a blaster out of one pocket. He fired off a blast that went harmlessly, almost comically wide of the mark and scorched a guard rail. Ron darted in and grabbed the blaster, forcing it down and right out of Drakken's hand. He heard it clatter over the edge of the building, and winced slightly as he remembered that they were 1,353 feet above the street, according to the brochure in his pocket anyways.

"Careful Doctor… watch that first step now." Ron turned his own uneasiness on his opponent and inclined his head to where the blaster had just gone careening. Drakken though, made a mad dash right at Ron, and promptly began slapping at him with his gloved hands.

Sure, the heavy black latex stung a little, but come on! Ron gave the blue man one shot to the nose and he dropped like a sack of potatoes, more out of shock at being punched than in actual pain.

Drakken looked up at Stoppable with wide eyes, clutching his face as a trickle of dark red wet the black of his gloves. "You hit me!"

"Well yeah… Duh, you were slapping me… AND you were like, totally going to nuke Chicago. What's with that anyway?"

Drakken was about to retort haughtily, when he blinked again, still clutching his nose. This gave his nose a comical, whining quality, "What do you mean, nuke Chicago?"

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

"Carrier to Pigeon Coop, fire in the roost… shall we proceed?" The taller of a pair of figures suited in dark blue were watching, from a nearby stealth helicopter, through some serious spotting scopes as they watched the flashes of blue and green blossoming on Sears Tower.

"Negative Carrier, The eggs aren't mature yet… hold position, and for god sakes, don't push that button."

The shorter man grunted as the radio clicked off. There was enough turbulence up here to cause them to simply bump the button. And why didn't they just blow it anyways, take out the two primaries, the secondary, _and_ Drakken and that rat all at once? Leave no one the wiser?

The unmarked and nearly silent chopper hovered on, then; watching and waiting for the word.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Shego, of course, landed on her feet and launched another bolt of roiling, bubbling plasma at Kim. "Not bad Kimmie, and I love the hair-ring…"

She grinned and started circling Kim again, aiming to get between her and Drakken. She wasn't sure she wanted to take her on directly again without a better plan; that damned kick had hurt! Still, she had to close the distance and keep Kim occupied while Drakken did… whatever.

"Thanks, have you ever seen this before?" Kim's own grin was playful. She enjoyed the compliment, even as she whipped her head and sent the heavy metal ring attached to the end of her long braided hair right at Shego.

"Cheese and rice! How much does that thing weigh?" Shego just had time to duck her own head, glistening iridescent black hair flying as the silver ring sailed past her face in an arc that would otherwise have slammed her right in the temple.

"'Bout five pounds." Kim's head came back up, and the braid, with its apparently useful ring swung back to her, settling with a few pendulous sways behind her back.

Shego grinned, she had to respect anyone who would use their own hair as a weapon. She also knew that Kim wouldn't be swinging it around that much, for fear of ripping her own hair out along with a good chunk of her scalp.

"Kinky… bet the Doofus just loves it!" Her grin once again went from playful to intense as she launched a volley of blasts right at her foe's feet, wondering if she could still engage in her legendary acrobatics with that kind of weight swinging around her head.

"That's the second time tonight you've mentioned him. Jealous, Shego?" Kim winked an emerald eye as she flipped backwards artfully, keeping perfect poise as she dodged every bolt. Shego scowled at how well Possible was moving tonight, and decided to change tactics again.

"Jealous? Of the Buffoon? Oh please… he looks better than when you were in school, Pumpkin, but he's still just a boy." She grinned as she stayed back this time, out of range of boot and ring. Normally banter like this was just to throw off the opponent, get them off balance; but with Kim it was different. She enjoyed trading barbs with the feisty redhead. Hell, the kid was cool, and had even helped Shego get rid of an interloper a few years ago. And now Possible was all grown up… It just made the game that much more interesting.

Still, there was a job to do, and she was being paid, after all, to stop Team Possible from stopping Drakken. Shego slashed her talons at the ground and watched the concrete and asphalt ripple like a silk ribbon towards Kim.

"Oh that's right, you're turning thirty this year huh? Still, least you can fill out your jumper, more than I can say for old Drakken over there." Kim vaulted up and over the rolling wave of rock and steel, and came down on her feet once more closer to Shego, breathing just a little harder now. This was fun... More workout than she'd gotten catching Killigan last month anyway.

"Oh, checking me out for more than my moves are we? I guess college really did open up your horizons!" and there it was! Kim's prudish little blush appeared as Shego finally hit a button.

She used the momentary fluster in Kim's concentration and swung a hard kick at her. Purple clad arms rose up to meet a slender black clad leg, but there was a lot of force there, and Kim stumbled to one side before regaining her footing.

"Goodness Princess, can't admit your feelings for me, even after all these years together?" Shego's kicks continued, spin after spin drove Kim back and at the same time away from Drakken's device. Her eyes gleamed. She had thought Kim might beat her outright after the first two exchanges, but she was back now and just above Kim Possible in combat, right where she was supposed to be.

Kim's grin had faded a bit when she lost her footing and she was gritting her teeth, trying to find an opening. There was no time to chide herself right now, so she decided to try to push a few buttons right back.

"Yeah… I've got feelings for you Shego… Respect most of all." she said through clenched teeth as another kick tried to penetrate her defenses. Shego's expression was priceless, or would have been, had Kim had the time to stop and admire it.

Glowing green eyes were wide in mild shock even as Kim ducked lower and grabbed her ankle, spinning her around like a discus. Shego barely righted herself as her back hit the wall of the elevator. She got to her feet quickly though, and shook it off, also trying to shake off the surprise that had replaced the previous excitement in her core.

"Good one kiddo. You had me going." She dove in again, claws bared and shimmering, but definitely not giving off the maximum power she could. She didn't want Possible maimed, after all, just stopped.

Meanwhile nearer the machine.

"Will Du told KP that you were going to irradiate Chicago." Ron watched Drakken carefully as the older man rose to his feet again, but made no move to grab the controls or reach for another pocket.

"Why would I want to do that, I want to rule the world, not destroy it! Otherwise I would have kept Warmonga on instead of Shego!"

"Dude, why would you want to rule it? I have a hard enough time cleaning my apartment, let alone getting the Israelis and the Palestinians to stop killing each other!" Ron gave him an incredulous look. He just didn't get the world domination thing. But Drakken didn't usually try to outright kill people either, or make threats… it was always more mundane stuff like turning Wisconsin to cheese. Something didn't add up here.

"Well, the machine's already on, so I guess I should be dead, huh?"

"You see, buffoon! It's not a radiation bomb!"

Ron's teeth clenched. He knew Drakken had known his name long before now, but that always ticked him off. He popped him again in the face with his fist. He and KP could sort out what to do about the machine themselves.

This time the blue mad scientist did drop out for good, and Ron grabbed his ankles, tugging him towards the elevator. When he had Draken there, he grabbed his own kimmunicator and headed back to the machine, briefly watching Kim apparently besting Shego.

"Wade, need your help buddy. Draken said his machine isn't a radiation bomb, so what in the name of all that's Diablo is it?" Even when he was speaking though, Ron's attention was drawn to the very center of the vortex, where there seemed to be a dark shape forming.

Claws slashed through air just inches from purple lycra as Kim ducked again. She grinned eagerly still, swiping back with her own fists, and decided to try to push the button again since she hadn't heard any explosions or heard Drakken screaming for mercy yet. "What's the matter Shego, can't profess _your_ feelings for _me_?"

Once again, this caught Shego off guard. Was it more than just respect for someone who could fight her to a stand still? She and Kim had been adversaries for years, but had they really been enemies in any of that time?

The fist in her gut didn't help clear Shego's mind any. The elbow to the back of her neck shut off the argument and most others a second later as she went down and couldn't get up past her hands and knees.

Ron held his kimmunicator to the terminal as Wade tried to decipher Drakken's handiwork. Rufus scurried out of Ron's pocket and down his arm, standing on the machine's controls and scratching his chin, trying to decipher them. He pointed at one he thought important. Ron flipped it after considering for a moment, and the swirling brightened. Even as it did so, his eyes were drawn to the vortex's heart, and he saw a definite person-shaped blob there now, moving about. Then there was a second, shorter shape alongside the first, they seemed to be… struggling? Its left arm was lighter than the rest of it and it was swinging both arms violently at the first, taller shape. Then a different human-shaped blob caught his eye, away from the Vortex.

"KP! Drakken!" he pointed with his free hand. Neither of them was less than forty feet from the scientist now, as Ron had dragged him out of the way. He had scurried over to his hover-car and climbed in by the time Ron pointed to him. How did that man manage to always wake up so quickly and escape?

Within a second, the hover car had floated over and Shego had drunkenly jumped into it. It then quickly began to rise out of reach of Kim's grasping fingers.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

"Pigeon Coop, Pigeon Coop, Two hatchlings learning to fly!" Once again the tall man had the radio in his hand.

"Fuck it!" The shorter man reached over and flipped the safety cover off of an angry red switch. He mashed his thumb down on it even as the confirmation to do so was coming back over the radio.

"Smash the nest, repeat, smash the nest…"

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_**Author's Additional notes**_

_Again, far fewer notes ____ The Sears Tower info is accurate in this chapter, look it up on Wiki if you want or at its official website. Again virtually no changes made to this chapter, just some grammatical cleanup and interjecting a few bits from the second half of Season 4. I'm going to try to release these updated chapters once a week, but that may change later, as the alterations I need to make get more complicated._


	3. Chapter 3

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

Redux

Pt 3

By Eoraptor

**Boring but important legal stuff:** Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company ©2002-2007. Full disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1.

Now, on with the Story...

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

"Booh Yah! Chalk another one up for the good guys!" this time it was Kim spouting off Ron's favorite exclamation and grinning. She looked up at Drakken and Shego, who both looked worse for the wear as their hover-car retreated towards the stratosphere, and waited for the typical retort as she moved towards Drakken's machine. She grinned as she caught sight of Rufus grabbing a souvenir and then darting back into Ron's cargo pocket.

Ron, for his part, took one more look at the vortex, where the taller figure appeared to have been joined by others in facing the shorter figure with the two-tone arms. There seemed to be more definition now too, the shorter figure had on what looked like body armor. There was a lot of green for some reason. Ron grumbled, though, as Rufus returned and flipped another switch, and the vortex contracted, finally vanishing.

"Hey I was watching that!" he almost whined.

"_hu-uh hu-uh bad news…"_ the mole-rat shook his head fervently.

"Oh… all right. KP, you coming?" Ron was headed for the elevator since there wasn't much more they could do here.

Sure enough, Kim turned and looked up, and just like clockwork came the usual parting words, "You think you're all that Kim Possible but you're-"

Three humans and one mole rat were transfixed by the blossom of orange and white that expanded from Drakken's machine in that split second. It seemed to move in slow motion, a living thing expanding in time lapse, reaching out with glowing tendrils and snatching everything in reach before flinging bits of flaming debris back out ahead of it.

One of the "everythings" in its path was a startled Kimberly Anne Possible.

Ron didn't see the most horrifying part of this beast's brief two second lifespan, and for that he would both thank and curse the fates. His consciousness winked out even as he turned to see Kim silhouetted by the orange monster and the blast blew him into the already opening elevator door. Rufus, still nestled in his pocket, suffered the same consequence.

Drakken, piloting the hover car and spouting off his retort to the sky more than the people perched atop the building, also failed to take in a large part of what happened in the following moment, though the blast definitely helped to focus his attentions.

Shego, having just hauled herself dizzily up over the front bar of the hover-car, was witness to every gruesome detail. She couldn't say if it was through some cursed gift of her super-powers, or just the normal time dilatation of crisis that burned the images so clearly into her mind, but she too cursed them with her every breath.

Kim Possible, with her long red hair, her vibrant purple tunic, her black jeans, and even that ubiquitous blow-dryer grapple gun, was caught from the left by the beast as it emerged from the machine. She'd just managed to turn her head to see what the sudden blossom of light was, and her arm was coming up instinctively to deflect what could not hope to be deflected.

In a gruesome moment that seemed a lifetime, Shego watched the fire latch on to her arm and, at the same moment, smash her entire body in the opposite direction. Her transfixed eyes watched as the woman who had been fighting her with such precision just a moment before was slammed like a marionette with its strings cut in the blast wave of the explosion. Shego couldn't flinch in the fraction of a second that she was forced, by fate or biblically poor timing, to see Kim's head snapped to one side with hideous force, a blank look of surprise on her face even then.

The fireball fully engulfed her suspended body over the next eternity, which encompassed perhaps a third of a second. And then she was gone.

Shego's eyes, heedless of her minds frantic screams to look away, followed the blossoming monstrosity as it filled and then exceeded the limits of the observation deck. The flame-beast, reaching the limits of its lifespan, began to grow dark and angry at its outer edges, withering and dying away like a neglected garden.

"Kim!" the half-choked scream erupted from her throat finally. Time started moving once again as if on cue. Immediately following the orange fire monster, a crackling blue monster of flame expanded out from the center of the maelstrom. This one moved with the speed explosions were generally supposed to, and obliterated its orange predecessor's remnants. The green-clad mercenary could only watch as the giant TV antennas atop the tower were bent hideously aside but remained fixed to the top of the tower. Smaller shards of shrapnel sprung up, but were seemingly consumed by the blue wave before it too dissipated, leaving a hissing, warped warzone in its wake.

Shego didn't notice the hover-car lurching upwards violently, or Drakken's attempts to right it. She didn't notice the stench of burned glass and metal on the air. She also completely failed to notice the black helicopter they only narrowly missed as it too was buffeted.

In fact, it was a good ten minutes before the dazed Shego noticed anything at all. By that time, the hover-car had covered several dozen miles and Drakken was verbally berating it and its lineage if only it would go a little faster. She slowly turned her head, black hair frazzled from the fight and now the flight, and began to make out the blue shape responsible for the maelstrom they were fleeing. Finally, all she saw was red.

"_YOU!!_"

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_-Five Hours after the death of Kim Possible- _

A black suburban pulled up into the driveway of the still awakening Possible household in the suburb that was Middleton, California. After a few minutes lights came on in the house one at a time, to greet the predawn guests. Coffee was offered, but refused.

Twenty minutes later the SUV left, and the household wished it had never awoken, or that it had yet to awaken and this was all a horribly unfair dream. Screams and sobs echoed through the cul-de-sac all of that day and into the next as a call descended around the neighborhood.

The usual explosions which would have accompanied the upcoming preparations of the Possible household's entries for the Homecoming were noticeably absent that morning. This alone would have been enough to tell the neighborhood that something was dreadfully wrong at the Possible's rebuilt home, even without the dreadful news ticking in on the morning news shows.

_-Seven Hours after the death of Kim Possible-_

Brick Flagg, along with the rest of the world, watched what seemed to be another 9-11 unfold on the news cycles. He'd been to the Arena early that morning to do warm-ups, and had yet to hear anything other than the CD's in his car before now. The overnight security guard had pointed him in the direction of the smoking tower a few miles to the east of the arena when he asked why the streets were so quiet, and then let him inside the building. No one should be alone on days like this.

"Early reports are very sketchy at this point." The current commentator went on from somewhere in the downtown metro.

"One survivor was pulled from the area below the Observation Deck in the early morning hours. Unconfirmed reports are that the survivor is Ron Stoppable, running back for the Rush, and partner to Kim Possible. The Department of Homeland Security, in a news conference earlier this morning, confirmed that Miss Possible herself had been investigating the tower during the evening hours. DHS is thankful that the timing of the attack, near midnight Central Standard Time, had the tower nearly empty; and the limited number of people on the streets below prevented horrific casualties like those of the WTC attacks several years ago.

"Debris fell from the top of the Sears tower to street level, limiting rail and street travel through the area, and civillains are advised to not travel to the downtown district. Reports of at least two aircraft over the tower at the time of the blast have yet to be confirmed…"

The news repeated like that for several hours, but most had tuned it out after the first or second cycle. Brick sighed heavily, and tried to think of what he and the team could do to help out Crazy Legs and his family. Maybe some kind of plaque, or a statue… Yeah a statue would be nice.

_-Three Days after the death of Kim Possible-_

"Ronald, we all understand that you're still very tired. But you have to tell us what happened to set off the explosion."

Ron didn't know who was speaking exactly. The bandages over most of his face prevented him from seeing anything more than gray-green blurs that talked too loudly. The morphine drip made them even blurrier and sound all that much louder.

After a few moments, he pointed to the picture of Drakken which he was shown, and shook his head. He did the same to the picture of Shego, his hands bandaged into unidentifiable white packages as he gestured. He was shown a few other pictures, still tiredly shaking his head at each as he pointed. When he was shown the last picture, however, he had to be sedated; and the General and his staff were asked to leave. They took all the pictures with them, including the crumpled tear stained picture of a girl with red hair.

_-Four Days after the death of Kim Possible-_

One shadow in the corner of Ron's room that had gone unnoticed by all present during the last few hours coalesced into a solid form, "Worry not Stoppable-san. We shall watch over you as long as is required. You need not recover from this alone, unless that is what you wish."

A soft hand touched his, which were freshly dressed after yet another skin graft. The shadowy figure carefully laid a single lotus, a rare variety with brilliant blue veining, on the stand next to the boy's bed. "Sensei has declared that all of our resources will be placed at your disposal should you desire to use them, Tai Sheng Pek Kwar Master."

Other shapes appeared in similar shadows, and further interviews with the patient were discouraged by nurses and doctors that no one recognized, specialists called in to consult on his case apparently. Who knew there were so many Asian doctors in Chicago?

_-Seven Days after the death of Kim Possible-_

"Well, whoever had him beat the hell out of him… and then they did it again with a lead pipe… and then again with something I don't even want to think about. It looks as though the skin was burned off of his back before all of that however, in eight vertical strips; maybe a soldering iron did it… Simply hideous."

"Thank you Doctor… Please, let us know if he can be woken up any time soon."

"Oh, I doubt that… he'll be on morphine for the rest of his life if he ever does wake up… Frankly, I hope to god he doesn't."

The lights were shut off, and the doctor, the General, and the Global Justice agent left the room. Machines quietly beeped and twittered away in the now darkened room, cradling the badly lacerated and burned patient. Next to the door was a sign that had read John Doe; but now that had been scratched out, and below that was a new label that read Drew Lipsky.

_-Eleven Days after the death of Kim Possible-_

"The Presidential Medal of Freedom was today awarded to Kim Possible, posthumously. This is added to the French Legion, the Star of Indus, and numerous other awards given already, or planned for the fallen hero. Additional ceremonies are planned leading up to the state funeral, and there will be a private ceremony held Saturday following the…" The channel was changed by a shaking hand.

"…and no body was recovered from the damaged tower. Although traces of DNA indicate strongly that the mysterious explosion and its radiation killed Miss Possible, and it would have proven fatal to anyone immediately near it…"

Click.

"…large amounts of blood from an unknown victim are rumored to have been found in wreckage from the Sears tower, a source wishing to remain anonymous reports…"

The flat screen exploded in a blast of green and black plasma. It was followed rapidly by the remote, the stereo, the couch, and eventually two walls. When the fire department arrived on scene minutes later, they were perplexed to find any cause of the spontaneous combustion of the high-rise apartment despite multiple points of ignition.

_-Two Weeks after the death of Kim Possible-_

"I can't believe that she's dead! God, so freaking irritating, gets me introduced to a guy who dumps me in Europe with no way home, and then she has the nerve to just die before I can let her know what a bitch che was?!" Despite the harsh words, a tissue dabbed beneath a pair of sunglasses, wiping moisture away from tan cheek bones.

"You can't believe it? She was supposed to help me try out the new chair next weekend. Part of me still think she's going to show up to, I guess." The young man sighed and stared at the monument in the distance as people milled about after the internment, "She tried to tell me Zita was going to leave when the video games got old, ya know? How she could know something like that but never score a date, I'll never know."

"What do you expect, Renton?! Little Miss Perfect always had to run everyone else's life first. Even that loser boyfriend of- Ya know what? Screw this! I got a flight to catch… I did my bit by showing up, like I could even freaking afford this trip."

"Yeah, nice seeing you too Bonnie…" the boy waved weakly, still wincing at the harshness in the golden girl's words.

_-Six Months after the death of Kim Possible-_

_Dateline: Washington DC_

_The Department of Homeland Security today, in conjunction with a previously little-known independent group, Global Justice, released its preliminary findings on The Sears Tower Detonation. The blast that claimed the life of freelance hero Kim Possible has been ruled officially to be the work of rogue criminal elements of a thus far unknown origin. No particular group or individual has taken credit for the blast, which was initially reported to be linked to scieno-terrorist activities. Drew Lipsky, AKA Dr. Drakken, had been suspected, but was later found badly beaten in an unrelated incident and has since been cleared of involvment. The whereabouts of his long-time accomplice Kelly Sheba Gomez, AKA Shego, are still unknown._

_Accounts of two aircraft circling the tower at the time of the late-night blast have never been confirmed, and radar and air traffic control reports show no unusual traffic patterns over Chicago surrounding the time of the blast. The DHS report declares these unsubstantiated reports to be…_

The newspaper was crumpled in a tan leathery hand and hurled into the fireplace. The voice of an older man speaking with a rich southern Spanish accent, and choked with tears oddly enough, cursed anyone so dishonorable as to use a bomb to kill their foe. For once, the higher-pitched voice that followed his agreed completely.

_-Eight Months after the death of Kim Possible-_

"I don't care if you don't have any leads, I want Shego! She's taken out three of our best people in as many weeks. We're not going to get enforcement approval from DHS if we can't even catch one woman who used to be a member of Team Go, and a Nobel Laureate," there was a pause as she listed irritably to the phone.

"…"

"Fine, bring them in then."

"…"

"I don't care, just lodge it under the SSCA, we'll handle the paperwork later, per regulations of course."

After a few moments more for the caller to cool off, the receiver was picked up again and another number was dialed. "Yeah, this is Justice… Get me Director Du."

_-Eight Months and two days after the death of Kim Possible-_

_Dateline: Go City_

_Team GO, the heroes of Go City, today turned themselves in to Global Justice on a warrant pertaining to the Super Science Control Act. SSCA, passed in the weeks following the Sears Tower Detonation, is intended to control the access of any civilian group or individual to "Technological, medical, or material means of causing mass destruction." _

_While the exact nature of the sealed warrant is still unclear, it is widely believed that it is related to Shego, the former female member of Team Go who turned to crime and had long been an antagonist of Kim Possible. The group had had their powers bestowed upon them by a meteor storm some twenty years ago, and have long been heroes in residence of Go City and the surrounding area, even following the defection of their sister. _

_Though unspecified, the sealed SSCA warrant empowered Global Justice to immediately extradite Team Go from Go City Jail. With laws similar to SSCA passed in many nations around the globe, the stock of Global Justice has been rising since the revelation of its existence six months ago. The independent body is specifically sited in many of these…_

"That's going to piss her off… She may not like her family, but she still loves them." There was a series of horrendous coughs, and the newspaper was temporarily discarded in a paroxysm of pain.

"Easy Miss Smith… your lungs sustained a lot of scarring during your…" the nurse tried to fish for any term to use, since no one on the ward had been told how the young woman had been so critically injured… The fact that she was up and around only a week after coming out of her coma was a marvel in itself.

One green eye glared at the nurse, daring her to say 'accident' as Sarah Smith gritted her teeth and allowed herself to be helped from the chair. After a moment, the nurse gave up searching for a descriptor and tended to the thickly bandaged stump that had once been Sara's left arm. Miss Smith growled and gripped the arm of the chair in pain as the bloody dressings were removed, and new ones were applied. Keeping the battered woman in her room had proved virtually impossible, so the Hospital staff tended to follow her around with a cart to tend to her medical needs.

After a few moments fussing over Miss Smith and checking her various vital readings, the Nurse departed the rec room. She came upon a group of orderlies and nurses just down the hall, and so began the day's usual scuttlebutt.

"Well, I heard they found her in a van, and she'd been gang-raped and set on fire…" one particularly catty CNA began. She was quickly shushed by the others, who knew that anyone who had a grip as strong as that woman's was after eight months in a coma was not likely to be gang-anything unless it was gang leader.

"I guess they found her without the arm, it's a miracle she didn't bleed out." One of the slightly more politic nurses continued. "…why the stitches haven't healed after eight months is beyond me though."

"You know… I don't understand how she stands the pain; she won't let them get any where near her with the zexapril. If she'd only take a shot a few times a day, maybe she wouldn't be grinding her teeth or have that ulcer she's been working on."

"That ulcer is from all the coffee. Now as to the stitches, I guess one of the Doctors actually caught her digging at the stump." A younger nurse shuddered as she recited the latest. "…not just picking at it; actually… well… Is it self-mutilation, or some kind of nervous habit? Anyways, they restrained her. Somehow, with only one arm, which was bound along with both ankles, she got completely free and wandered down for more coffee and a newspaper."

The duty nurse nodded. This last gossip item, at least, was true so far as she knew from the patient's chart.

"…and what about the way she is with the news? I swear I took copies of the times, London AND New York, the Post, the Gazette, Go City Journal, and Jefferson County Examiner out of her room the last two days; and when it's not those, it's the damned news channel on the satellite. I guess if I'd been asleep for eight months, I'd be a little concerned with current events too, but she's just spooky."

"That's nothing; you know she speaks at least French and Latin? Fluently. She was watching a news break on Univision without ever blinking too." A few of the staff nodded. They'd seen such linguistic feats as well.

"Well, however the hell she got to JCCH, she'll have to be discharged soon. Family or no, she can't convalesce here forever. The state will put her in a long term care facility until they find some relatives I guess…" There was some sadness here as none of the nurses, even the catty one, wanted anyone stuck in a state home.

"You know, it's a shame about her hair… I'll bet it was just beautiful before… before whatever… it's such a vibrant red. You'd think someone would notice that our Jane Doe has about the rarest hair color around. Can't be that many missing people with hair like hers?" This was the second nurse again, the discussion having made its round in the small group. "Why, I'd say it's even brighter than those shots of Kim Possible in Time last month."

There was a horrendous crash from the vicinity of Miss Smith's area, loud enough to be heard all the way down the halls of Jefferson County Community Hospital. When the duty nurse entered, she found the remains of an Illinois tourism cup and its formerly hot coffee spattered across the wall. The wall in question though, was a good forty feet away, across the hall, and into the sitting room of the small hospital. She eyed Miss Smith, as she preferred to be called over Jane Doe…

Miss Smith's one piercing green eye challenged her keeper in return. And nothing was said… that was, until the train rattled by the small station just outside, and the sobbing started again as it did every time that train went by.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_AN: So here's where things really start turning dark in the story. From here on, it's no holds barred on language, violence, etc… Also, this is the first chapter to have any really plot-affecting changes made to it. I added in a few more parties reacting to the death of Kim to cure some later plot holes, and fleshed out a few spots that were pretty sparse before. I cleaned it up a bit from a style standpoint as well. In the original version I'd tried to be a bit too poetic with the explosion and it came off hokey. _


	4. Chapter 4

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

Redux

Pt 4

By Eoraptor

**Boring but important legal stuff:** Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company ©2002-2007. Full disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1.

Now, on with the Story...

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

There were ceremonies. There'd been a lot of ceremonies. There were also speeches… There were always speeches. He was asked to speak, as always he declined, but for this one he felt obligated to attend. The black granite slab with the bronze plaque on it was nice, he thought… She would have hated the statue they'd wanted to put up instead.

Finally, when everyone not in the immediate family had left the observation deck, he sighed heavily and yanked at the tie that felt uncomfortably heavy around his neck.

Ron felt a rustling along his leg and looked down as the hip pocket of the suit popped open and a little pink head popped out. Little black eyes were teary, and he handed Rufus the handkerchief he'd been dabbing his own eyes with throughout the evening. After a few more moments caressing the relief of KP's face on the granite monument, Ron sat heavily down into one of the folding chairs, careful not to jostle his cargo, and let Monique go to pay her respects.

He rubbed his calves a bit as he sighed… He was regretting climbing all one hundred and two stories, even in sneakers, but he'd taken one look at those silver elevator doors and nearly wet himself. Everyone understood, and the ceremony had been delayed thirty minutes for him to climb to the newly rebuilt 102nd floor observation deck.

Ron felt Rufus wiggling again in his pocket, and pulled his little mole rat out, setting him up onto his shoulder.

"I know little buddy… I miss her too. Hard to believe it's been a year huh?" Rufus nodded, and tried to stay balanced as he dabbed his eyes yet again with the large handkerchief clutched in his good paw. He slowly made his way down Ron's lapel and loped off towards the buffet that had been left for the few honored guests, after the memorial proper had broken up and the dignitaries departed. Poor little guy just didn't scurry as well with a half-paralyzed arm and permanent nerve damage…

Ron had balked at having Rufus put down. The Mole Rat was Family, not a pet! None of the veterinary staff said anything could be done for the rare rodent who had been crushed under him while hiding in his pocket that night. Thankfully, a zoologist who dealt specifically with rare subterranean predators had finally come forward, and his little buddy had been sewn up as best as anyone could have hoped.

"Ron… We're so glad you could be here today." A warm hand rested on his shoulder and he turned to look up at the faces of James and Anne Possible. He smiled back and squeezed Kim's mother's hand, and got up to turn and speak with them despite the burning in his thighs.

"Its no big Mr. P, Mrs. P. How are the twee- the boys?"

"They're well enough… finishing up school. They just…" Mrs Dr. Possible's lower lip quivered just a bit, and she obviously struggled to compose herself. "Ron they loved Kim so much, but they just couldn't stand to be here…"

He nodded and gave his best friend's mother a gentle hug. He'd agonized for days before deciding to make the trip back to Chicago. Of course, unlike the Dr.s' Possible, he didn't have a huge stipend from the government to pay his expenses. He _had _ been offered obscene amounts of cash to write his memoirs, do talk-shows, speaking tours, recount his life and times saving the world… but he'd turned them all away… He didn't see fit to live off of Kim's ghost; and he was way too young, he thought, to be writing memoires anyway.

Besides, only two living people knew that he'd been the one to kill the alien invaders a few years ago, and he was much happier to have it that way. He wasn't going to turn the myth of Kim saving the world yet again into an outright lie by putting false stories in print in any memoire or recount, which gave a second convienient reason to turn down publishing offers and movie deals.

After a few silent moments, Monique had come back to the small knot of people, smiling warmly despite the tears in her caramel eyes. "Oh Mrs. Possible, I think Kim would understand. At least they didn't put up that G.A.S. Now that really would have made her spin in her…"

She stopped, not finishing the awkward gallows humor. No one really wanted to think about the empty grave back in California. After a moment, Ron broke the thick silence.

"G.A.S.?"

"God Awful Statue. Honestly, it's like they've all already forgotten how humble Kim is, erm was." She bit her lip slightly as everyone nodded in agreement with her.

"Really. I mean… Come on.." Wade stuttered after a bit of silence, wiggling in his seat. He'd been doing that a lot lately Ron noticed. He also noticed the small spare tire that was not-so-well hidden under Wade's jacket. He stared wondering if what Monique had said was true; that he'd spent the last three weeks locked in his room replaying all his old kimmunicator logs over and over. Ron didn't think Wade was that down, but then again, he was looking and acting more like the _old_ Wade lately.

Almost an hour later, after everyone had reluctantly paid their respects to the effigy of their fallen daughter and friend, they were still sitting in the enclosed observation deck talking, now remembering some of the better times and sharing news.

"I hope I look as good as you do when I'm three months along and forced to fly 3,000 miles Misses P." Monique smiled easily, her folding chair turned backwards as she straddled it. Her black Capri's strained against the motion, being dress pants and not meant to be so casually strutted about in.

"You're so sweet Monique… but you look great… what is it your doing again these days dear?" Anne self-consciously covered her faintly swollen belly with one hand as James smiled in the way only an expectant father could.

Monique shifted in a way Ron found to be a bit uncharacteristic, but he let it go as she responded smoothly. "I'm working as a fashion designer. I get to live in Middleton and commute all over the world, its way beyond!"

"Well, you always did have a fabulous eye Monique." Mrs. Possible, the retired brain surgeon smiled warmly again.

Ron had to agree. Despite the formal occasion; Monique's fun capri's and rose colored shirt, with its frills at the cuffs, were a breath of fresh air among all the suits and gowns. They were obviously expensive too, which is probably why they didn't raise as many eyebrows as one would have expected for the ostentatious and staid memorial ceremony.

"And speaking of three months along," James kissed his wife on the cheek and squeezed her hand, "I think we'd better be getting back to the hotel. It's been a long night and it's going to be a long morning tomorrow packing and catching out return flight."

Hugs were exchanged, along with phone numbers, facespace pages, and email addresses and promises to keep in touch.

"Hey Ron…"

"Yeah Monique?"

"Where's your spleen?"

The blond boy shook his head and chuckled ruefully. Monique and he had crossed paths more often in the past few months. Despite her civilian life becoming even more conventional in Kim's absence, Monique had picked up on the existence of an ever-present Asian woman always in proximity to Ron. He had refused to tell the African American girl who she was or who she worked for, but Monique seemed to take great joy in pointing out her existence.

Eventually she had affixed a nickname to the phantasm about two months ago, declaring her to be Ron's spleen. No one seemed to know what she did, and she was not visible unless one knew where to look; yet she was always there, working away in some unknown capacity.

"She has a name, Mo." He laughed softly and glanced around for the aforementioned vestige of his old life. "Yori… and she went back to Japan."

"Hmmm, spleenectomy… Must have been painful."

Ron sighed a bit more heavily and ran his hands over his face. "Yeah, it wasn't pleasant. I don't think _'get the fuc-'_ erm… _'get the fudge out!'_ loses much in translation."

"Yeah, probably not." The fashionable mourner shook her head and smiled as she considered this. "You want to grab some drinks? It's been a while since I've been in Chicago, and I think KP deserves to be toasted."

"Sure! Hey Wade, you in?" he turned to look, but Wade was already in the elevator with the retired surgeon and the semi-retired rocket scientist. Ron hadn't realized until just that moment that they had been standing there a few feet away, waiting on the lift as he and Monique spoke.

"Doesn't matter, he's only seventeen, remember?" Monique chided him gently. "Besides, I think he's probably on his way back to that damned laptop. Old habits die hard you know."

Ron and Monique headed for the fire door, without his even asking her if it would be okay to again avoid the elevator.

After a few minutes of silence in the subdued lighting of the now abandoned observation deck, the fire door opened again. A security camera was turned just a bit to one side so it could no longer focus on the center of the room.

"I can't believe they're really using pedestal cameras. Honestly, haven't they seen one heist movie?"

A shadow fell across the stone panel set into the wall, and a set of fingers settled onto the burnished relief laid into the bronze plaque. The fingers were long and slender, and tipped with metallic green nails, each one filed to fine a point.

"Hey Princess, it's been a while." The voice was soft, quiet, and even approaching respectful. It didn't quite get there, but it approached it. Shego wasn't smiling with her lips, but there was a sad sort of smile in her eyes as she addressed the monument. After a moment, she removed her hand from the outline of Kim's cheek and tugged at the pocket of her long, deep green alligator-skin trench coat.

"Doctor D says hi… or he would if he could chew solid foods yet…" she smirked a bit, wondering if Kim would enjoy knowing that her inept nemesis was finally out of commission. The smirk faded a bit when an inner voice that sounded suspiciously like a certain cheerleader's reminded her who had put him there, and how; and most importantly, that it was for the wrong reason.

'…_and there's a part here that I don't remember installing…'_ Those words, in the voice that grated on her nerves to this day, drifted through her mind as unbidden. She didn't feel guilty about turning Drakken in.. if you could call leaving him on the doorstep of a hospital turning him in. She certainly didn't feel guilty about the condition he was in. He hadn't planted that particular bomb, but he'd tried to hurt Kimmie so many other times… She'd thought when she came out of retirement to help him in San Francisco that things would be different, better, more exciting!

No such luck. They'd rapidly fallen back into their old patterns and rolls, only to find much of the rest of the world had moved on past them… and he'd grated on her nerves over the past year. Oh how he had! Well, lesson learned, and it'd only taken about seven years.

"Did a lot of searching while you've been away… think I found the bastards who set us all up." Shego winced slightly as the memory of an orange fireball came unwelcome into her mind. She bit her darkly painted lower lip until the moment passed.

After a moment of shaking still, the hand fishing about in the deep pocket of her trench coat was brought back under control as well, and fished out what it had been searching for.

"Here you go kiddo, a souvenir. The first batch of many, I'm hoping." After long pause, Shego made her way back to the fire exit, long coat swishing theatrically in an imaginary wind. The doofus and the dark skinned girl were right, she thought… Drinks did sound good tonight, so did dancing, and criminally loud music…surely there would be a club open in Chicago, even on Kim Possible Day.

She paused and looked back at the memorial from the door, and the small fabric patch she'd stuffed into one corner between the bronze and granite. It was dark blue and one edge was ragged. The words Global Justice Enforcement were clearly visible despite the singed condition of the cloth badge, and legible though spattered with blood.

'_Oh yes_,' she thought to herself as she let the heavy fire door close behind her, '_the first of many, many to come.'_

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

The mansion was lovely. The staff was very polite to her, and always showed respect and called her by some title or other. She was civil to them, in deference to her elderly host. The bed was luxurious, and the satin sheets were fabulously comforting and cool on scarred and thickened skin.

Yet, she still thrashed about, as she did most nights. Sleep always came to Sara Smith, her body weary of another day of training, forcing atrophied muscle and scarred lungs to do things that they weren't entirely ready for. Sleep was an unwelcome visitor, though, because of the baggage it brought. Nightmares came and went, and she thrashed violently trough all of them, occasionally crying out loudly enough to wake her patron or the staff. At least there weren't any trains here to keep waking her up. Her hand reached above her head, pantomiming clutching something as she jerked in slumber.

_-One year earlier, the night Kim Possible died-_

_Kim could taste copper. It was all she could taste and smell, in fact. It was harsh, and she knew it was from a wound on her face. She couldn't hear anything, save for a tinny ringing that refused to go away no matter how many times she shook her head. _

_She was hanging from her grapple-dryer, but she had no idea why. Nor where for that matter, except that there was a lot of wind. For some reason she couldn't see that well. Must be blood in her eyes, she thought. Her forehead was probably cut. It'd happened before and it always bled a lot. _

_She needed to move, she was still in trouble. They could be coming back any second. Whoever blew up that machine must be coming back! _

_She reached for the kimmunicator in her hip-pouch. It didn't appear. She blinked and reached for it again. God it hurt to even blink!_

_Still, the smart phone didn't appear in her grasp. She flipped the switch under her thumb, and began lowering towards what must be the ground. She couldn't really tell what it consisted of, except that it was that big dark patch with no lights around it._

_She tried again to reach for the kimmunicator for help. Wade could get her a ride out. It stubbornly persisted in not appearing before her eyes. She grumbled and tried to wipe the blood out of them. That too, failed. Something was very wrong, a part of her brain said._

_Kim ignored that part, because it only ever said the very obvious. She finally felt the ground under her sneakers and pushed the retrieve switch on the grapple-dryer. She didn't hear it winding up. Damn why wouldn't the ringing stop already? Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she felt the hook click up against its body. She dropped it onto its handy hook on her left hip. She didn't hear it hit the asphalt and then bounce over the edge of the roof and into oblivion beyond because there was no loop for it on her pants any longer. _

_Once again she tried to pull out her kimmunicator. Once again it persisted in its absence. She looked down as she made her way to some kind of glass door. Through the red haze that she was insistently trying to wipe away, she saw that her pants had been torn away on that side of her hip, no pouch, no kimmunicator. "Darn… I can't afford to keep buying jeans like this."_

_That obvious part of her brain again tried to tell her something was wrong. It insisted that her hip should not be red and black like that. She ignored it again._

_The glass door, which she could barely make out between the darkness this far up and the irritating red tint of her vision, refused to open for her. She pounded on it with both fists, and it finally gave way, shattering inwards. She jogged quickly through the office within, and got into the first elevator she could find. Ron had to be down the tower by now; he was already in the elevator when… _

_Her obvious-voice again demanded attention. It wanted to know why the glass had taken twice as long to shatter as it should have. Another part of her mind told it to shut up, it wasn't important. _

_Kim hurt all over, and finally managed to clear her eyes just a little. She still saw a huge white spot in the center of her vision though. She banged the proper buttons to get her down. They didn't seem to be working. She reached over and banged the buttons on the right-hand panel instead. This time, the lift moved. She wondered why she couldn't hear the fire alarms, even over the ringing in her ears. _

_She got to the bottom of the tower finally, and headed to the street. A brief question ran through her mind as she headed out into the street; why was the carpet in that elevator red, when none of the others was? No one was around on the street either. That was odd. She looked up. She saw the antenna masts atop the Sears Tower leaning. _

"_Darn, that's why no one's around, better move!" this time she listened to the obvious voice. Down the block, and to the right. Train yard! Bingo. Ron should be right behind her, if he hadn't got there already. She reached for her grapple-dryer, since being down there would be safer if the tower fell. _

_The grapple-dryer also didn't materialize. She looked at her right hip; damn, it wasn't there! Must have fallen off while she was running. Oh well, wasn't that far to jump, only thirty feet. She was up and over the fence with just an unaided leap, and then falling gracefully. _

_Kim hit the ground and rolled, using her hands to carry her momentum. Somehow she ended up on her side instead of her feet, flopping over awkwardly._

'_that's not right, something is very wrong!' came the obvious-voice again._

"_Shut up, need to hide somewhere. The tower could collapse, or whoever was in that black copter could come back."_

'_what black helicopter?'_

_The obvious voice and the tactics voice were arguing now, it seemed. She looked to her left. She looked to her right and found a train; Amtrak. She crawled into an open maintenance hatch and pulled it shut behind her. She should be hearing police sirens now… too much noise from the trains, too much ringing in her ears. She was safe for a moment though. Ron could find her pretty quickly via the kimmunicator._

'_its gone, dropped, remember?'_

"_Fine… okay, inventory…"_

_She looked down her right side… Darn, she was a mess; pouch was missing, she was dirty… her purple tunic was nearly black, and where it wasn't crisp and smelling of sulfur, it was soaking wet with water from the tower's fire sprinklers, which had seemed to be working only intermittently. At least she still had her sneakers on. _

_She felt tired too, and cold… of course she was tired! Look at all she'd done tonight. And she was wet with whatever else was all over her tunic. No wonder she was cold. It was October in Chicago and she was soaking wet!_

"_That run and jump would have been a bitch in bare feet."_

'_language kimmie…' the subconscious voice of her mother chided her for even thinking with such words. _

_She tried to look down her left side. Damn this little locker was awkward! She turned her head further, and was finally able to see a little of her right leg. Damn she hurt. Her hip was still red and black. That was going to be a bad scar. Wait, why could she see her hip? She managed to turn her head more, but it was very painful, she tried to use her arm to pull herself around a bit in the confines of the locker. _

"_Oh god, that wasn't right! Shit that hurt!"_

'_language...'_

_She felt sick, and shook her head. Her vision had gone red again, and there really wasn't much light in here. She tried to pull the hair out of her face, touching her left temple, why did it feel like that? Without warning she retched, and was disgusted when the black, grainy vomit covered her chest and filled the locker with a horrid stench. _

'_that's not supposed to look like that.. doesn't that mean something's wrong inside?'_

_She finally managed to turn a bit more and get a view of her left side._

_Was the door open, she couldn't see her hand? It must be sticking out. She tried to pull it in, needed to stay hidden. And where was Ron, why couldn't she here the police or the fire trucks by now?_

'_Its. Not. There.' obvious voice finally made itself known forcefully commandeering most of her consciousness._

'_of course its there! this is just a really camped locker. with red walls... and really weird streaked red paint?'_

"_oh god!"_

"_Oh god no!"_

"_OH MY GOD WHERE IS MY ARM?!"_

_She vomited grainy black bile again all over the little locker, crying out and retching. After several long moments, the screams didn't come… She thought she'd should be screaming. She wasn't. _

_She was just so cold... at least the pain wasn't so bad._

'_that's shock.' Said one cold part of her mind after what seemed like a long time._

'_help isn't coming.' _

'…'

'_I'm vomiting blood… that's what that is.' Said another after she had gagged and coughed herself completely into one corner of the maintenance locker._

'_I'm going to die aren't I?'_

'…'

'_yes, I am.' _

'…'

'_I guess this is what happens when you try to help people, eventually, huh?'_

'…'

'…'

'_I guess it is… I'll miss everyone. At least things won't be so tiring now.'_

_The bloodied and burnt form of Kim Possible finally stilled, not having strength to retch, or cough, or struggle. One by one, the parts of her brain that had been discussing her predicament went quiet. _

_Six hours later screaming finally came. It didn't come from the body in the access locker, but from the woman who found it, and saw it turn over and stare at her with one green eye burning from the bloodied, charred face and matted, burned red hair framing it._

_-Eight months after the death of Kim Possible-_

'_why am I hurting? dead people don't hurt.'_

" ... around Doctor."

'_who was that? I'm dead, I'm not supposed to be hearing people.'_

'_shit I hurt… at lease the ringing stopped.'_

"Miss… can you hear me?"

Who was talking? She was looking up at a blurry room that was coming into focus slowly. She didn't see anyone standing over her though… however, there as a shadow across her chest.

Parts of her brain started connecting. One part… that damned annoying obvious part, reminded her that her left arm was missing, and so, apparently, was her left eye since she couldn't feel it blinking when the other one did. Another part told her that she was in a hospital bed, clothed in a dressing gown. She'd been in this situation many times. But she hadn't been dead before.

"Miss… can you hear me? When you came in, you're eardrums were blown out… tell me if you can here me?"

'_I wish he'd shut up… I'm dead! Go away!'_

She turned her head, and glared up at the doctor when he finally came round into view. "Yeah, I can hear you just fine. You couldn't stand over here where I could see you?"

"Oh! Sorry about that…" The doctor smiled at her and came around. He shined a light in her eye, took it away, shined it again.

"Damnit! Would you mind not blinding me?"

"Sorry… Do you know where you are?"

"…off hand, I'm guessing a hospital."

"Very good. Do you know where?"

"Sitting next to an idiot. Next question."

"and people complain about _my_ bedside manner." The doctor smiled and wondered if she was so abrasive usually. "Okay, do you know what day it is?"

After her answer, it was confirmed that she was indeed dead. Living people didn't take eight month naps and wake up cranky in hospital beds.

'_okay, I'm dead… where to next?' _she thought to herself. Ironically, the next question the doctor asked her gave her the answer.

"And, could you tell us your name and date of birth?"

"I… I don't know…" If she was dead, she thought, she'd just have to be someone else; someone who wasn't dead. Someone who didn't get killed helping people.

'_What a joke that was!' _she thought, _'killed trying to help people!'_

"Well, Jane Doe…" The conversation went on, and she was told about her injuries. She didn't cry, and they seemed surprised by this. They told her she had breathing trouble, and that because of this, she might be brain damaged. They didn't know how long she had been unconscious when they had found her in a maintenance panel filled with diesel fumes, on a cross country train called California Zephyr.

'_I'm not brain damaged,'_ she thought. She knew how she'd gotten into that box. She could remember everything. Of course she wasn't brain damaged! In fact, she was an entirely new person… the girl in the train's locker was the one who had died. She was the one with brain damage, trying to save the world…

"Jane Doe… I don't like that. Couldn't I be Sara Smith? Yeah, call me Miss Smith."

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_Author's notes: Okay, I bet this passage was pretty confusing… I wanted to describe what happens when a person is in shock. Obviously though, when a person is in shock, normal thinking doesn't go on. _

_The gruesome details about what happens to Kim in the maintenance hatch are somewhat accurate. When a person has internal bleeding, blood seeps into the stomach, where it coagulates and is then vomited up. (gross I know) Victims of blasts often die from concussion waves from a bomb. People will seem to walk away without a scratch, only to die later. It's called "the white butterfly" for the way massive internal hemorrhaging appears on X-rays.The rest of the confusion is Kim's mind compartmentalizing the fact that her let arm and eye are missing, filling in the absent details it thinks should be provided by missing arm and eye.  
_

_On the less gruesome sides.. California Zephyr is the wonderful Amtrak train that runs from Chicago, through Omaha and Denver, before terminating in San Francisco. Union Station is downtown, less than two blocks from the base of Sears Tower; so a stunned Kim could easily get to it and drop into the rail yard before it dives down under the Union Station building._

_Every year, there is a charity "stair climb" at the Sears Tower where idiots, I mean volunteers, climb all 103 stories (this doesn't count the basement levels) in the fire escapes. So Ron, while probably well winded after doing this, could have done it without a huge problem. As, apparently, could the stealthy Shego while paying her respects_.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

Redux

Pt 5

By Eoraptor

**Boring but important legal stuff:** Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company ©2002-2007. Full disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1.

Now, on with the Story...

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Sara woke up, sat up in the massive bed, and stretched her arm high above her head. After a deep yawn, and the usual frown that accompanied the return of consciousness and its aches, she scrubbed a hand over her face. Turning, she placed her feet delicately on the hardwood floor, and winced as she found the polished wood cold in the November morning's chill.

After a long moment acclimating her feet, she padded slowly and almost stiffly to the edge of the generous room. She clicked on the switch on the brewmaster, and inhaled deeply as the heady scent of some of the darkest coffee this side of the Andes began to fill the carafe. She was genuinely grateful for few things, taking it as given that someone with her skills deserved and should receive the finest things in life. After all, she spoke multiple languages, and had come by this life when she sacrificed a previous one for people who probably were just as happy to see her go. So many things were owed to her and she deserved them.

Coffee, however, was the gift from a benevolent God that kept her going.

She'd been free of that damned hospital now for nearly a month, and the weak swill they passed off as caffeine was gladly forgotten. When she'd found herself a patron on one of the more clandestine message internet message boards, it was her one major stipulation that she be well supplied with quality java.

Setting demands; that had been the easy part… Convincing her patron that she, a near-invalid whom Social Security said didn't even exist, was worth the trouble of extricating was more difficult… Miss Sara Smith had traded on the one resource she still had immediately at her disposal; the knowledge of a certain laser grid, and how to shut it off to access a rare set of stuffed toys worth millions. That had gained her her freedom, as well as a few weeks of recuperation time in a well-appointed summerhouse on a small island off of California. Other tidbits had been traded in those following days to shore up her status as a valuable informant. Information on a robotic manufacturing plant in Tokyo, in particular, had garnered a good amount of operating capital for her.

In some ways this small villa reminded her of another privately held island, except that there were no spinning death-tops, nor were there lasers or other traps. Those were problems left to someone else… for the time being at least… that island did hold _a lot_ of valuable things she might want to sell, later perhaps.

She made her way to the master bath, and assessed her post-somnolent appearance. Her short cropped carrot-red hair was bent to one side of her face, and she growled as it only served to draw her eye over the mirror to the angry flat of thickened skin that had once been her left eye. She rubbed her face irritably and debated how much she could afford to spare at this early venture for reconstructive work.

A few minutes in a hot shower rejuvenated her enough to face the day ahead. Once she'd tugged on a pair of skin tight black slacks, _'now there's an oxymoron'_ she thought… and donned a flowing crimson blouse that hid a tracery of fine scars on her torso. She then pulled on the black satin eye patch that hid most of the ugly wound on her face, and finished off the ensemble with a belt and slick paten leather mules.

She paused to assess herself in the full length dressing mirror and frowned. She was still very slender, despite three weeks of near constant physical training and eating heavy foods. She remembered being a bit fuller before Chicago. Well, "Kim" was fuller any way. That question of personal identity still hung over her head, even if the rest of the world knew her only as Sara Smith.

And then there was the matter of the pinned-up left sleeve of her blouses and her gym clothes. Fortunately, she wouldn't have to deal with pinning up the sleeves of her clothing for much longer.

In any event, there wouldn't be time for training today. Too many things would be happening that required her attention. She closed the wardrobe door that held expensive clothing on one side, and three sets of black spandex bodysuits on the other.

The first task was awaiting her when she descended the stairs. The houseboy was waiting alongside a deliveryman. She signed her "name" to the electronic pad he held out, and then moved to assess the large boxes.

The first two were Henchco products. She could tell from the shapes of the packages that one was the master systems terminal she'd ordered, and that the other was therefore the highly specialized sensor package. The one was something no self-respecting recluse and thief could be without. That's who Sara Smith was, she'd decided.

The other was to test a few theories she had about herself. It should have been no matter at all for that damned hospital to test her blood and determine who had been lying in their coma ward for eight months, yet they hadn't. There was another theory she wanted to test, but that was going to require assistance.

The third box she opened immediately, though, rather than wait for the helpers to come and move them all to the proper locations. "Club Banana Euro" was printed boldly on the side. She pulled out the long, blood red alligator-skin trench coat and held it to herself appraisingly. She looked to the houseboy for his opinion, though it really didn't matter what he thought.

"Well, red is the new black."

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_beep beep beep beep beep_

Ron grumbled a bit and attempted to cover himself with the blanket. "Five more minutes!"

When that didn't silence the alarm, he reached over to smack the snooze button. His hand hit air. He slapped at it again, rolling a bit in the bed to get a better angle. Still nothing.

He opened one bleary eye, and hissed as it tried to crawl back into his skull in pain from the sunlight glinting through the window.

"Too much beer… too much smoke machine… smokey… stuff. Never partying with Monique again…" he grumbled. He allowed his blue eyes to clear for a moment. The alarm clock wasn't there.

In fact, the nightstand wasn't there to hold the non-existent alarm clock, either. Funny, it had been there the previous two mornings. His carpet had also been an ugly blue the last two mornings, not green.

His pickled brain was starting to put these two discrepancies together when a third made itself apparent. The third discrepancy made the first two seem trivial by comparison. It was a curly mop of chestnut hair poking up from under the blanket on the pillow beside his. Or was it his pillow at all?

'oh _no_… this isn't… _no_… we couldn't have…' he thought nervously to himself.

"Rufus, buddy?" he whispered. His response was a moment of heavy silence, followed by a tiny groan. His dress slacks wiggled on the floor, and a pink paw stuck out of one pocket and tried to wave him off.

"Rufus, Buddy, what happened?" again, the hand waved dismissively at him. Carefully, he slid out of the bed, and the sheets were pulled along with him enough to reveal not only his own half-buttoned shirt and askew boxers, but also a caramel-skinned face that frowned slightly in slumber at the disturbance.

He carefully snuck around the bed, shut off the alarm clock, and then carefully snuck back, picking up the pants, mole-rat and all. The renewed silence in the room was broken by the most indelicate snore he had heard in a while. He would have laughed were he certain the exhaustion it described were entirely from alcohol.

Ron had been drunk before; both from beer, and from brain switch rays, moodulators, good/evil enhancers, and so many other things. Usually he was able to remember the things that had happened before and during those times. For some reason he couldn't remember anything of the previous night after the second beer and the second turn on the dance floor with Monique.

He was so busy not remembering, in fact, that he nearly broke his big toe stubbing it on the bathroom door. He bit back the howl of pain and closed the door behind him.

"Okay, take it easy Ron…" he thought to himself in a panicky state. "…it's not like you haven't woken up weird places without your pants before."

'_yeah, but how often do you wake up next to your best friend's best female friend and not remember how you got there and how you got pants-less?' _came the inner reply.

He didn't _feel_ like he'd done anything, he thought. But that didn't stop his inner voice from running over all kinds of scenarios, some more fanciful than others.

He was about to start an inventory as he sat on the toilet set lid when he heard Monique's cell phone ringing in the other room. He listened, heart in his throat, to see if maybe she _did_ remember what, if anything, had gone on.

"Yeah, sup?" came the grumbled answer to the ringing.

"…"

"You're kidding me? Girl did it again?"

"…"

"Right here in town? She must have been P.O.B.T. One Year Anny and all."

"…"

"What's P.O.B.T?" Ron whispered to himself as he listened.

"pissed off big time mmhmm mhmmm" came a groggy mole-speak response from his slacks.

"That's the first one she's…" there was a pause. Monique's voice got quieter. Ron strained to listen, but Monique seemed to have moved away now.

"-- -- -- --. Was the badge missing again? She didn't -- -- -- -- the first three. We still don't know if she was involved in New Orleans."

"…"

"Yeah… give me five. I'll -- -- -- -- and catch a cab."

"…"

"No… He doesn't know. He doesn't _need_ to, and your parents definitely don't!" came a stronger reply this time. "And no, you're not calling -- -- -- --."

"…"

"Look J, T… I can't talk over both of you."

"…"

"Little boy blue couldn't tell us anything. Glow Stick's our only bet."

"…"

"Awkwierd…? How do you even _know_?! You don't know the half of it twerps. And no body else better either, _got it_? Just -- -- -- --." came one much more irritable reply; hissed through what Ron thought must be clenched teeth. He heard the phone beep as the call was ended

After a long moment of silence during which Ron's heart skipped as many beats as it made, there was a knock at the bathroom door.

"Ron… hey, I know it's a lil heavy, but I need to go… corporate just called, they need me in our office downtown. Major blow up with a supplier, you know. Can you let yourself out?"

"…um… sure Monique.. catch you... later..?"

"…yeah, sure… coffee on me. Vintodo."

He heard her rustle around for about two minutes, and then leave the hotel room. He stumbled back out into the main room, slacks still clutched in his hand. By now Rufus had gotten out and crawled up onto his shoulder.

"Buddy, what _did_ happen last night?" he asked quietly.

"don't know. too many cashews" came the high-pitched reply of a hung over mole-rat.

"And more importantly… what was all that about?" Ron scratched his mussed blond mop and tried to piece together three-quarters of one-half of a conversation. "Didn't sound like any fashion deal I ever heard?"

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

"I thought people were supposed to be happy the morning after?" Jim blinked as the call got cut off.

"That's what I thought. Maybe she's just upset that Shego's in Chicago?" Tim replied.

"Or maybe Ron just wasn't that good." Jim grinned keenly.

"Yeah, Kim never let him…" Tim trailed off into a whisper, even though no one else was in their lab.

The twins got busy about arranging for Monique's transportation back to the Observation Deck after hours for later that evening, still grinning. Then they dropped what looked like a brown and gold set of tights into a tube, counting on it to find its way through UPS to Chicago over-night.

"I still say we should call Wade… he's much better at hacking Air Traffic Control."

"Monique said no. Remember what happened last time we called someone in without her knowing?" They both rubbed their ears in painful memory. The eleven-month partnership had had its more fiery moments.

Monique had come to them when it became clear that that stuck up British boy Will Du wasn't going to lift a finger to catch whoever blew up the building. The twins had met him before, but they had no clue how Monique knew him. She'd told them that Du blew her off at KP's funeral, quoting some obscure regulation about ongoing investigations.

With Ron in the hospital most days, and Wade pretty much shut off from the world, she'd come to them for technical help. It had started with a little hacking, and a new communicator. Monique said she wanted to find out what really happened to Kim. Over the past few months things had progressed rapidly. Now it was security system hacking, bank tracing, and new gadgets galore, like the one they had just send wending its way to Chi-town.

"Fine, no Wade… Not like half our stuff isn't based on his anyway?"

"Hoosha."

"So, what about Ron? Think she'll bring him in?"

"No way. Too many memories."

"Okay, call up that Matrix movie footage. She said she wanted to watch it again."

"Why? Does she think we can download stuff to her brain?"

"That would be way beyond… But how?"

"We still got that moodulator?"

"Hicka Bicka."

The twins grinned. As always, when one thought of something, the other as less than a step behind.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

There was a beeping in her deep coat pocket. It went unnoticed for a moment. The hand that would normally retrieve it was currently roiling in green plasma, and clenched into a fist.

"Tell me! Now!" Her teeth were gritted, and she held her burning fist high over her head, intending to cave in the skull of the blue armor-clad enforcer if she didn't like the response.

"Who killed Kim!?"

"I- I don't know! I've only been with GJE for six months! Please!"

Shego growled as she saw a darkening spot spread through the crotch of his armor. Her fist flared even more brightly for a moment, illuminating her face and a dangerous scowl. Then the plasma fire evaporated and she punched him in the face, her metallic threaded gloves cracking with at least a little satisfaction against his nose. She dropped him on a pile with two of his comrades and swung her fists to the sky, reigniting them and throwing bolts into the night.

Finally, somewhat spent of energy and rage, she dropped her arms and gave the pile of Global Justice Enforcement agents a sharp kick. Turing and walking, she yanked her phone from her deep pocket, glaring at it as if to demand its silence.

"You need a cover-story… so do I. Meet me tomorrow night in San Francisco. More info to come."

Shego blinked irritably at the text message. Her eyes had finally faded from a faintly glowing green to their powerless chocolate-brown. The phone beeped again in her palm, and she clicked to the next message as it arrived.

"I can make it worth your while. " 

She sighed tiredly, and scrubbed her green talon-tipped glove over her face. After a few moments she grunted at herself and relented.

The mercenary Shego had not been taking paying work; hadn't for months in fact. She'd instead been on a crusade. After piecing together the events of that night just over a year ago, she'd realized that someone had set them up. Drakken's device shouldn't have exploded; it had been shut off by that doofus and his rat.

"Fine… I'll be there… you better be legit." She tapped out the response into her phone after shedding a glove. Crusades cost money. Hers was nearly gone. Drakken's bank account was nearly exhausted as well. She paused at this thought. Where did Drakken get his money anyway?

Exiting the alleyway, she stepped up to a sleek black motorcycle. Sweeping her long green alligator-skin coat aside, she swung one long leg up and over the all-black cycle, mounting it. Her body subtly relaxed as she embraced the curves of the sleek machine. Without her once-frequent tropical vacations, the freedom of the bike was all that relaxed her anymore.

Clinging to the back of her ride, her hair and coat whipping theatrically behind her, she sped off into the night. The thrill of the ride out into the countryside surrounding Chicago's suburbs was only enhanced by the fact that she rode lights out, relying on her eyesight and the full moon, covering the curves and traffic of the interstate. She got a few honks as she whipped lightless through heavy near-city traffic in the night. But this was what it was about, the danger, the excitement...

No rules to follow, no one to tell her what was and wasn't right, just her against the world. This was why she was a mercenary, this was why she stole, and this was why she fought with… Kim.

The revelation was so stunning that she almost spattered her bike across the back of an eighteen-wheeler that was doing seventy-five to her one-hundred and two.

Shego pulled the bike into the emergency lane and ran her hands roughly through her hair, trying to get a grip. Kim… Kimmie, Princess, Cupcake… Little Miss Perfect. The redheaded girl who'd been haunting her thoughts. But why?

That revelation, it seemed, wasn't enough. Fighting with Kim because they were opposites was one thing… She felt somehow that that didn't explain this crusade… this quest for vengeance. The last piece of the puzzle eluded her grasp. Shego slammed her fists down on the handlebars of the bike, and felt it sink down on its shocks and bounce back. She hit it again, demanding it do more than bounce beneath her.

She raised her fists to strike the grips again, but took a deep breath, and instead rested her hands down on them. She instead expressed her frustration at the elusive impulse by revving the bike passed it's redline, until the engine whined and threatened to burn out its bearings between her thighs. She let it spin down again, unsatisfied by its submission to her wrath and aggravation.

"Oh well, Its 3,000 miles to San Francisco, I've got a half a tank of gas, a pocket tootsie rolls, its dark, and I'm driving with my lights out." She grinned, paraphrasing her favorite chase movie to herself as she kicked the bike into gear, threw it back on its rear wheel, and set off into the night.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_Author's notes__: I don't know where it got into my head that Kim is a coffee fiend… but it's a thought about her that's stuck in my head for some time though. I dunno._

_Rufus… well, I didn't feel good about having him drunk and hung over too, so I figure he binged on the most expensive part platter nuts and snacks around._

_And why wouldn't Shego absolutely love "Blues Brothers?" Not only does it take place in Chicago, a city she's just leaving, but come on, its about two ne'er-do-wells outrunning the cops, fighting the system, but ultimately it's to do something good… and good music too, Shego loves her music. Though she strikes me as more of female power-singer type than a blues aficionado…_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

Redux

Pt 6

By Eoraptor

**Boring but important legal stuff:** Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company ©2002-2007. Full disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1.

Now, on with the Story...

_Please leave reviews?_

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

"How the hell did Kim do this every day?" Monique grunted softly to herself, reaching up for the next hand hold. She was half-dangling, half-climbing on a manmade mountain.

The mountain in question was a tangled mass of steel rebar, structural members, and broken concrete that had once been the upper stories, roof line, and television antennae of the Sears Tower. It now sat in a government controlled scrap yard on the edge of the city's waterfront district overlooking the lake. The twins had been surprised when they'd found out it was still around. The price of scrap metal was through the roof, and it should have been melted down and sent to China months ago.

'_I only wish. I wouldn't be out here, getting dirty and smelly if it had.'_ Monique thought to herself as she found purchase and pulled herself up onto a makeshift ledge. She wiped a gloved hand over her sweaty brow, and paused, breathing a bit heavily.

She looked out over the depressing mass of steel and ruble, trying not to think about what it symbolized. It symbolized her B.F.F.'s actual tombstone; not that empty casket in California, nor the granite and bronze plaque she'd visited two nights in a row. Here was where Kim's mortal remains lay… such as they were.

The first night she had been to the aforementioned granite memorial had been part of the official memorial service that marked the one year anniversary of the Sears Tower Detonation.

The second night had been by private request. UniquePossibilities _dot_ com had gotten its first hit, ironically, to investigate the defacing of Kim Possible's memorial. The site's name was a bit of an homage to her girl. The twins had loved it, and put it into effect almost immediately. It had been up for three weeks, and she'd received only the usual drivel and spam she'd expected during that time. Mostly they were both positive and supportive of her attempt to pick up the helping business; or a few which had been derisive, accusing her of cashing in on someone else's memory.

Finally though, the building manager of Sears Tower had contacted her. He was mildly shocked, to say the least, when Monique had shown up in his office, considering the two had talked briefly the night before at the memorial. After a brief discussion of what had been found in the memorial, and her adamant denials that she had anything to do with it, Monique was given the patch that had been found by a janitor, a patch stuffed into the monument.

She'd also been given a check. That was the main difference between KimPossible_ dot _com and UniquePossibilities _dot_ com. Saving the world was not an inexpensive proposition. Gadgets, like the ones she was using tonight, also didn't come cheap.

She didn't demand or extort anything in exchange for her services, especially since they were mainly investigative. However, Monique did make it clear that there was a difference between saving the world and recovering stolen industrial secrets. Kim might have been willing to do it all in exchange for rides and good will, but these guys had money to burn and Monique was not a fan of the Ramen diet. So she had no qualms about accepting rewards, finder's fees, and other forms of remuneration when they were offered.

Well Technically Sears Tower had been the first to "officially" offer… The rest had been things she had stumbled on in her quest for Kim's killers, such as global diamond market scheme to devalue the real ice with carbon crystal synthetics. That had been a nice and unexpected payday; so said the diamond studs in her ears and the La Prima bag back in her hotel room.

She sighed after a long moment and stood up, dusting her gloved hands off on each other, and thus cleaning the microscopic hooks that let her do her spider-girl act. She placed one booted foot on the sheer concrete wall before her, and began climbing up the surface slightly less gracefully than an arthritic three-legged platypus.

"I swear girl… You better be worth all this." She grumbled under her mask once more. Monique was not the natural-born athlete Kim had been; and her burning thighs and forearms were reminding her of that fact now with every grasp-and-pull movement.

She was thankful, therefore, for all the help the 'tights' she was wearing gave her. They were a warm sort of chocolate color, accented with glowing golden strips at her hips and along her arms and legs. Along with the gloves and boots that enabled her tenacious and graceless clinging, they were probably the only thing keeping her from plummeting seventy feet to the ground. Her 'tights' were in fact, the latest iteration of Kim's battle-suit.

When the boys had taken particular glee in pointing out her lack of mad skillz on their old jungle gym, she'd challenged them to come up with a better solution. A few hours later, they'd returned to her with a dusty garment bag containing a set of white and blue tights.

"Uhhu… I ain't no magic mage." She'd said in disgust at the labor-day violating armor. She'd said it in an affronted manner, but holding the battle-gear in her hands had nearly choked her up. Well it had, in fact, but the twins were also too choked up to notice.

After that cathartic moment, the boys had gone to work for her… on the condition that she got to design. After all, she and Rufus had stol- erm had _designed_ Kim's second generation mission-ware. J and T, as she had dubbed them, had owned up pretty darned well. With a few color changes, and some stylin' lightning bolts that glowed a warm golden color, her mocha-colored battle armor was done in a couple weeks time. Not only did this suit have the strength enhancing and self-healing abilities of Wade's previous suit, but it had gyroscopes built in that made her somewhat more nimble than she was on her own. She still wasn't vaulting around like a flea on a hot-plate, but she didn't look like a total newb; and that was what was important.

Wade had never solved the plasma-blaster problem that made Kim stop wearing the suit, and neither had the twins. So she wouldn't be trading blows with the likes of Shego and cutting her way through steel walls. In exchange though, T had told her, they had extra power for all sorts of other things. One of those things was the mono-filament cable she half-dangled from every few minutes. It launched, also spider-girl-style, from her wrist, and adhered to surfaces with the same micro-velcro technology that her boots and gloves did.

This of course, had led to J saying she needed to call herself 'The Brown Spider.' That suggestion had quickly been shot down when the more worldly fashion designer-turned-detective had told both boys of its euphemistic meaning.

She grinned under her mask at the memory of that conversation. The family Possible was many good and wonderful things… but they sure were white-bread sometimes.

Reaching the top of the concrete wall, which she discovered was actually a concrete floor turned on its side, Monique leapt through space, and latched on to one of the skewed twin television masts. The 'Chocolate Ninja,' as she sometimes thought of herself when looking into the mirror, had done it again.

In fact she did look just like her nom du guerre would imply. The boys had used a little of the suit's extra power and built her a facemask that included a communicator, a digital camera, and an air-filter/scuba setup. It made her look for the entire world like something out of a Hong Kong action movie marathon.

Blinking her eyes in a specific pattern triggered said camera; and she photographed the base of the TV antenna in visible, infrared, ultra-violet, and various other kinds of light. She was about to use the torch built into her right finger-tip, another add-on, to cut a sample when she was illuminated by a handheld spotlight.

"You! Freeze!"

She had learned the hard way a few nights before that one never looked into the beam of a flashlight at night. It never did any good, just made her eyes and head hurt. Of course that had been a harmless security guard at Sears Tower. She had been _invited_ there.

This was entirely different; she was in a top-security bone yard, uninvited. Keeping her back to the light and guessing it must be damned bright to light her up seventy feet in the air, she took one step backwards.

Counting to three, she twitched her wrist and was thankful when the battle-suit did what she wanted, as if reading her thoughts. The cable flicked out of her wrist and caught a hanging beam, transforming her rather graceless fall into a clumsy but far less dangerous swing. She swung out and yanked the cable in a way that made it release its hold, dropping her a good twenty feet away from the holder of the spotlight.

Bullets whizzed past her and raise the dirt at her feet, cutting off any time she had to congratulate herself on her artful and impromptu flying act. Monique darted to her feet and started running for all she was worth, once more thanking the suit and the twins for their assistance. Running faster than a fashion designer or even an Olympic track star had any business running, she vaulted the razor-wire topped fence, and came down on her feet for a change. The suits gyro's had kept her upright, thankfully, and she only fumbled a few steps.

Escaping the top-secret savage yard, which contained more than just the one mountain of debris, was only the first part of the mission. She still had to get back with the evidence.

'_chalk up another for the twins_.' She thought to herself as she jumped into her rented SUV and tore off into the night. As she went, she couldn't help but think that was one dangerous 'mish' down… and a far more delicate mish to go. Coffee with Ron.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Sara growled and rolled her surviving fingertips, the ones burned with the pattern of the grip of the old grapple-dryer, across the bridge of her nose as she clumsily set the brandy glass aside with her old prosthetic hand. She'd known today was going to be a bad day as soon as she woken up this morning from a version of the usual nightmare so bad that she had clawed open her own remnant limb with her fingernails in her sleep.

She'd figured for a week that that was how it would be, Kim's old memories coming back after the anniversary of the detonation. Still, this was progress tonight. She hadn't drunk herself to numbness, despite the itching of her stump. She wasn't crying or even sniffling… Well, aside from the runny nose that slight inebriation was inspiring. She was finding that in her new life, now that she was learning to control the vestigial pains and aches of her body without pain killers or alcohol, that she rather enjoyed sweeter liquors like brandy. Of course, her former life as Kim had left her chaste, only so much as sipping the occasional beer or wine; though Sake in Japan had held a little more pull for Kim for some reason.

Her internal consideration was broken, and her headache lightened a bit as her expensive little smart phone chirped. Her smile increased as the header appeared.

"eVile-bid Auction ending in two minutes. Your agent is currently the high bidder. Would you like to join chat?"

"Why yes… Yes I think I would actually…" She mused to herself. She maneuvered the phone in her good hand and began typing away with her surviving thumb with unusual dexterity as she managed to sip again from the apple brandy with her prosthetic.

She paused, considering the ugly beige hand that held the stem of the snifter, "You, my friend… Your days are numbered."

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Dr. Cyrus Bortel blinked, and then grinned. He typed in a fairly fat figure of Euros on the Villainster message board and waited for a response. The wait got longer.

…and longer still. Had he got too greedy?

"Done." came the response after a heart-stoppingly long moment.

"Your reputation for neuro-physiology better live up to the hype." appeared a moment later. Bortel, a plump, easy-going little man, wasn't sure how to take that.

"Off course it ees. You would not be bidding on zhis I f you were not zo certain of my abilities, yes?" he typed back. He watched a few more responses appear from other, disappointed bidders on the live auction chat.

The deal being discussed was right up the wayward scientist's alley. After the failure of both his Moodulator and his mind control chip, he'd only made a little money contracting on the Evil Enhancer Aura Filter component in something called the Attitudinator. He'd heard that that had worked too well at the convention it was demonstrated at, turning some boy into an evil mastermind. Two years now he'd spent on this nerve interface; it would allow human nerve cells to control robotic servants without even having to cut open a skull. Now, finally, someone wanted to license the technology. This S.S. person, who claimed to be with Wraith Technologies, whatever that was, seemed very eager in fact.

Once he'd confirmed the eBid payment, he sent off his information to the address specified.

"V.F. Porter... Why does zhat sound so vamiliar?" The plump little scientific profiteer mused. "And who is W. Loade to have that kind of money?"

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Shego was convinced that she must be going slowly, irreversibly mad. In less than three hours she'd ridden from Chicago to Des Moines. This could be done when one was riding at upwards of one-hundred miles per hour and had no concern for one's own safety. She'd been forced to stop again for fuel at a rest stop on the east side of the rural state's gilt capitol dome. As she listened to the slow pinging of the bike's engine cooling in the night air, she'd to come to a realization.

The realization was encouraged, in part, by her own numb ass and inner-thighs. Her bike was damnably fast… but it was no cross-country cruiser. What had made her think that she could cross three-fourths of a continent on it, especially in one night? For some ethereal promise of money and '_a cover-story_?!'

She was generally not bothered by the cold, even if it was past midnight on Halloween night in the Midwest. In fact, she felt rather fortunate that the lateness of the season meant that she wasn't picking bugs from her teeth and hair. Still, she'd crossed the small city to the so called international airport and secured a flight. Being Halloween night, she got fewer of the usual number of stares at her more-than-olive complexion. For that she was thankful.

Shego had been through the farm state before. In fact, it was one of her favorite places to put her little two-wheeled Oni 1250 through its paces. The rural countryside meant plenty of hills and twisted back roads to fly through at speeds that would make the cycle's manufacturers wince. Her love of the roads department, however, did not translate into love for its citizenry.

In many ways they reminded her of Kimmie, she thought as she sat in the first class section of the 777 bound for Frisco. The people of Iowa seemed to be polite to a fault, and took everyone at their word. They hadn't even asked twice when she told them she wasn't sure when she'd be back for the bike after she put it in long-term parking at the airport. Just like small-town folk everywhere, though, their eyes followed her soap-green skin and shimmering green-black hair.

She sighed heavily, settling back into the plush seat with a flute of champagne. Another reason she didn't spend so much time in her favorite riding territory was that, short of riding, there wasn't anything for her to do there. No clubs to occupy her restless body with music that would deafen a mere mortal, no movie houses offering late night showings of Rocky Horror when she got into an odd mood, and not a strip of passable sea-food to be found in the land-locked territory. And yeah, to a person, everyone she had met in that state acted like a slightly-less-cosmopolitan version of her pumpkin.

'_So polite… God, how do they stand themselves!?'_ Shego again scrubbed her face with her hands, groaning to herself within her own mind. _'May I help you with that? Yes Miss? How are you today?Thank you very much! Please come again.'_

'…_and what's wrong with polite? You never seemed to mind that in me. …and since when was I _your_ pumpkin anyways?' _

'_well… since…'_ Shego stopped that train of thought quickly. She also self-consciously looked around the dimly lit first-class cabin. Kim's voice was so clear in her mind that a tiny part of her wanted to believe it had come from someone sitting nearby.

When she saw that there were no redheads nearby at 4 am on the flight, she sighed again, and took a sip of her champagne. It did nothing to soothe her nerves or quite the discussion that had begun in her mind.

'_Well, since when?' _

'_Since whenever, okay?'_ Shego's own voice spat back.

'…_fair enough.'_ Kim's voice in her head went on after a moment, deciding to allow the self-delusion of her host to continue. _'…did you really have to do that to the GJE agent the one night?'_

'_you mean kill him?'_ a memory flashed before the two eyes of the mental constructs. The man screaming for mercy, and then was silenced when the grenade Shego had forced into his open fly, one of his own weapons, detonated. He'd refused to say anything after seeing the look in the madwoman's eyes when he'd admitted to flying the helicopter that night.

'…_yeah, that.' _

'_God you're naïve!'_ The inner-Shego snapped, _'You always were! Those bastards killed you! They tried to kill me! That one right there?' _the inner-Shego pointed at the visage in the theater of her mind, _'He was _in_ that damned helicopter! He watched them PUSH THE FUCKING BUTTON!!' _

Shego was white-knuckled as she sat there, arguing internally with her adopted conscious. She slammed back the remaining half of the champagne and swallowed it bitterly.

In her mind there was a version of Kim… two versions in fact. One never said anything. She merely watched over her shoulder when Shego did the things she'd done these past few months, and occasionally tugged at her shirttail like a lost little girl, reminding Shego that she was still around.

That was the one that drove her on, made her hunt the GJE dogs wherever she could find them. She looked like a pitifully lost puppy to Shego's mind, and the mercenary wanted to protect her.

The other Kim in her mind was the vexing one that was with her now. She was the real Kim, or so she claimed. She was the one that insisted on reminding Shego that Kim didn't steal. That Kim didn't lie. That Kim didn't beat people senseless when she could avoid it. That Kim Possible didn't kill.

That Kim in her head also told Shego that she wouldn't want such things done on her behalf either.

The Kim-conscious remained silent finally after being yelled at. Shego sat in her seat and nodded triumphantly, holding up her glass flute for another serving of champagne. She smiled to no one in the real world.

'_Besides, I didn't kill any of those others… even the one that pissed himself last night.'_ Shego's own inner voice added after a moment, as if to ameliorate her motives.

'…_that was so totally nasty'_ agreed the Kim-conscious, giggling in that way the real Kim would have.

Shego giggled softly. Then she clapped her hand over her face and groaned loudly.

"Fuck… I am going mad. I'm having arguments with the voices in my head… and they're winning!" She sighed, whispering quietly to herself now in the still of the red-eye flight.

After a moment she sat up, gratefully accepting the second drink as it was delivered to her. She knew she wasn't really going insane. The two Kim's in her head were her own mental images, and if they didn't take the form of her Kimmie, they would have taken some other form to get her attention over these morally ambiguous activities.

As she settled back to sip her drink and try to get some sleep, the Kim-conscious got in one parting shot. _'…you still didn't tell me since when was I _your_ Kimmie?'_

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_Author's notes additional: Hey! New scene with Sara! Those of you who read the previous version will notice that she appeared rather quickly, so I am trying to ease her away from Kim this time around. __No, Shego's bike, the monster crotch rocket Oni 1250 is a fantasy, not a real bike, sorry folks. _

_Please forgive a little narratorial indulgence with Shego's long night-time ride. Having grown up in Iowa, and then spent time in larger cities… There really is nothing to do for a die-hard urban girl in this rural state… I too have broken more than a few speeding laws on the winding back roads and county highways like T-15, in my little red sports car though, not on Shego's expensive little crotch rocket._

_People around here really do remind me of Kim, in her behavior anyways.  
_

_Okay, I know we're heading into Chapter 7 and I have yet to even hint at who the major villain is… don't worry, we'll get there._


	7. Chapter 7

**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**

**Redux**

_Pt 6_

_By Eoraptor_

_Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company ©2002-2007. Full disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1._

_Now, on with the Story..._

_Please leave reviews?_

**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**

Wade blinked. He blinked again after a moment. By the third blink he was rubbing his eyes. _Wraith Technologies… _

Two weeks ago he'd received a simple request. Combine the work of two scientists with some he'd done on the side in the past, and then submit the results to "S.S." at Wraith Technologies. Nothing about that had bothered the hacker at the time. At the time it had been Kim Possible Day. He had a lot of other things on his mind.

Now, with his finger, virtual though it was, hovering over the send button; he wasn't so certain. Something was bugging the heck out of him. He'd been asked to contract the work. So he'd been issued a bank account with the company. Not highly unusual; Enron used to run the same kind of numbers. It was suspicious, but legally above board.

So Wade had purchased the licenses to some neuro tech from their old troublesome friend Dr. Bortel. Oh well, better to have anything like that out of the hands of a man who'd once turned Kim into an unstable vixen straight out of 'Single White Female.'

What made him blink, though, was the name of the other scientist Wraith wanted him to work with; Vivian Frances Porter, Robotacist. Wade knew Vivian from their days in Ultimate Robot Fighting. She was a genius with a body that just didn't stop. In fact, that was part of why Wade remembered her; not for her body, but for what it had caused her to do.

Vivian, or VF as she had gone by in those days, felt that she couldn't be taken seriously because she was a California blonde. To that end, she'd crafted her robotic 'boyfriend' Oliver. Oliver had been her cover during her days with URF. She worked as a lowly Lab Assistant by day, not showing her true potential, and at night Oliver was given credit for her unbeatable creations, no one knowing that he was in fact her masterwork.

Wade, Kim, and Ron had dealt with her and Oliver when she was accused of theft. In the end it was actually her lab supervisor who had stolen creations from her. Vivian finally owned up and started accepting the due credit for her work, and now was widely heralded in the field. She was also still a stone-cold babe in Wade's humble opinion, even if she was nearly a decade older than he.

Still, sexy robotacists aside, something didn't quite seem right. So his virtual finger hovered over the submit button. What did robotics, nano-technology (his own contribution), and neurology have to do with one another? Visions of a bad Star Trek episode came to mind at first, but he shoved those off. Maybe he needed to find out more about this Wraith Technologies.

The virtual hand moved away from the submit button, and a new sphere was opened. Windows was for chumps, he thought to himself. His three-dimensional GUI was so much easier to get around. The new globe, which overlapped with the previous like two conjoined bubbles, opened onto the interweb. He got the glossy professional looking homepage of Wraith almost instantly, and the physical address at the bottom of the page was noted by another program living inside that sphere.

"Hmmm… so what the heck do you actually do?" he mused to himself. The page was slick, and loaded with colorful animations and attention grabbing banners. It gleefully offered him an investor prospectus, a stock ticker quote, a 'letter from the chairman,' and various other fluff. The veteran hacker knew better to be taken in by the sizzle when he was after the steak.

With a few quick strokes, he'd meandered his way into more obscure sections of the company website. He wasn't as much concerned with what he found as what he didn't. Any corporation's website should have back-links to their own intranet; this website, however, did not. How was it being updated if it had no connection to corporate IT?

Sloppily maintained web sites should even have the occasional link to a product not released, or a page that wasn't quite ready to go live. Wade wasn't even finding links to old products or services that had once been offered but had since been stripped from the website. Either the webmaster was the most brilliant and efficient person in the history of the interweb; or this site was a fraud.

It was at that moment that his phone rang. Phone-sphere at least. The bubble floated to the top of his screen and showed him the number calling.

"Well, speak of the devil and he'll appear." Wade mused to himself. He picked up the virtual receiver in his virtual hand.

"Mr. Loade…" the voice on the other end was gravely, forced sounding even. "You seem to be fairly curious for a contractor. Enjoying your tour of our end-user website?"

Wade's face paled. He was routed through so many servers he wasn't even sure he existed in a virtual sense. How did this person know what he was up to? "Um… yeah. I am… Can't help but notice you don't offer any products."

"Indeed we don't. Any amateur could figure that out. I assume by your surfing, that you must be finished with your work." The voice went on. It sounded somehow falsetto now as it continued.

"Yeah… I'm done. You're not getting it until I get some answers though." This whole deal was just beginning to stink.

"Before we give you any answers, we have a question." 'we?' Wade thought to himself. This… person was referring to himself in the third person plural…well this just got better and better.

"Sure… Go ahead." The boy narrowed his eyes at the caller ID display suspiciously.

"How would you like a job. Your history working for Kim Possible shows that you are good under pressure. How are you about quasi-legal hacking?"

Wade blinked again. It wasn't exactly a state secret, what he did for Kim back in the day… but it was hardly common knowledge either. He rubbed his eyes, realizing he wasn't blinking nearly enough under the stress of the moment.

"What's it to you? I don't even know what you do yet. And what does Ki- Kim Possible have to do with any of this?" Wade was getting more defensive by the moment. He was about ready to pop the big red sphere on the screen that would sever all computer connections to the outside world.

There was a pause on the line, "She was good at what she did… therefore you must be good as well. Dr. Porter has already agreed. But if this will make you feel better…"

A link appeared in his email sphere. He clicked it and a new set of web pages opened up rapidly. Images of advanced robots, weapons models, helicopters, and other high-end items were displayed library style to him.

"Here are a few things that we don't think the owners should be in possession of." The voice continued. "We think you know this man…"

Senor Senior Senior appeared on his screen now. Wade nodded in spite of himself. He did indeed know the semi-retired multi-billionaire whose hobby was world domination.

"So what's 'quasi-legal' about that?" He asked the 'voice' after a moment.

"Senior bought these things legally, and he owns a private island in international waters, so no weapons laws apply. Taking them away would be theft."

"Fine…" he sighed after a long moment. "I'm in. What more do I need to do?"

"Nothing for now." The voice continued. "We'll contact you for more help when the time comes."

**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**

Sara hung up the phone, smiling softly to herself. The smile grew eventually into a feral grin. Wade didn't need to know that he was helping her to steal gold and jewels. Sure, if she happened to come across some weapons she that could carry, she wouldn't pass it up… but Sara Smith was not in the magnanimous world saving game. This was all about profit.

She stood up, stretching her arm out over her head and standing on her toes to loosen tight muscles. If Triple S wanted the world, he was welcome to anything he could keep secured. Anything that wasn't nailed down though… was hers for the taking.

This led to her next order of business. She'd used Kim's memories to get some money, but that wouldn't last forever. That wasn't the limit of her problems. She needed work. Someone who knew what to steal and where to get it. Her knowledge here was limited. She'd already applied most of it in ratting out the owner of some of the world's rarest plush, and now in her plans for the Seniors' private island. Kim knew of a few other things like this, but most of what she was aware of from Possible's adventures was more in the vein of super science, and not as easily fenceable.

She needed contacts. To get contacts, she needed a reputation. To get a reputation, she needed success. To gain success, she needed contacts. What a vicious fucking cycle!

Or… she grinned again to herself… _'I could always use someone else's rep.'_

This is why she'd paid Shego to come to near-by San Francisco. It was why she'd also been paying the woman, quietly, to stay put while she collected her facts. She knew, though, that Shego wasn't going to stay put for much longer.

So, her problem was simple, convince Shego to work for an unknown.

Shego was a mercenary, she knew. She played by her own rules and worked for the highest bidder, at least until she got bored. Then she too long vacations… spa-treatments, and side jobs. There must be a clue there to convince her to take jobs from Sara's unknown Wraith Industries.

The redhead pursed her lips, her brow furrowing. She thought hard for a few moments, trying to pull together all she could remember about the woman and her life. She was finding it harder and harder to access Kim's memories. It was almost like they were a commodity that could be used up. Even Kim's moral fortitude was rapidly fading away, no longer dredging up nightmares of the girl's old life and downfall to contest Sara's plotting.

She frowned harder, working her way through the last few encounters between the do-gooder and the mercenary. There was the tapioca incident, the international college in Middleton, that stupid pirate ship, the Sears Tower.

Suddenly she started coughing violently, and grasped her chest. The very memory of the explosion caused her to be racked with pain, as if she were once more inhaling raw flames. She fumbled about her desk, and finally felt her hand close on the inhaler. Inhaling deeply, Sara took in all the medicine she could, and finally felt her wounded lungs begin to relax.

"Damn it!" She cursed angrily and hurled the inhaler away when she felt she wouldn't have to take another hit from it. Her body continued to rebel against her will and vex her at every turn. Her pulse was raising, a fine sweat broken out across her scarred face, even beneath the black satin of her eye patch.

She'd escaped that damnable little convalescent ward in Illinois in July. It was now November. Despite months of rehabilitation that would make a Shao Lin monk weary, Sara Smith was still not close to being in the shape the girl that fell off of Sears Tower had been in.

"No, not fell, was blown off of." She grumbled to herself. Psychology, she was finding, was a funny thing. She clearly knew that Kim Possible, who had climbed up Sears Tower over year ago, had been killed in an explosion. Sara Smith, who'd woken up four months ago in Jefferson County, Illinois, was a completely different person.

Remembering the event that separated the two people was becoming tricky. As facets of Kim Possible's old life faded further from her day to day routine, it became easier to think of the previous girl as nothing more than a stranger with a similar life story. Some days it was as if they were not only two people mentally, but that they had two different bodies. It was as though Kim had ceased to exist; not only in spirit, but due to a new, less capable body.

'_maybe that's not so far from the truth…'_ she thought to herself bitterly, looking at the print-out that just happened to be on her desk.

'COMPARATIVE DNA ANALYSIS' the sheet read across the top. Below that were four lines of A's, C's, G's, and T's. In front of each line was a name; Kim Possible, Anne Possible, James Possible, and Unknown Donor A.

Kim Possible, her mother, and one brother… and, according to the laboratory she had paid to interpret the results, an unknown fourth party who shared common genes with, but was not identical to, any of the three known subjects.

She was Unknown Donor A, she knew as she scowled at the paper with renewed consternation. This was why the hospital hadn't identified her. Something had changed Kim Possible's DNA. Or was it Sara Smith's DNA? She dragged her hand across her face and over her suddenly dry mouth. Drawing the palm away, she looked at her fingertips, the ones pockmarked with scars which made them as unreadable as her DNA.

"Leave the 'who am I' shit to the philosophers, Sara… You've got better problems to deal with." She spoke to herself as she poured a glass of brandy and took a large swallow.

After that swallow, she looked into the mirror that lined the wall across from her desk, here in this mansion her patron was keeping her in. The woman who looked back was definitely not the cover-girl pretty crime fighter Kim Possible. For one thing, Kim had two eyes and two arms, where as the woman looking back at her had only one of each. The woman looking back at Sara was also more slender. Her body had none of the taught muscles and firm lines that hinted at the rampant athleticism evident in Kim prior to the explosion.

This, Sara thought as she grimaced, was in direct contradiction to the weeks of toil she was putting in at the gym. Eight weeks now… Eight weeks of weights, gymnastics, and karate. She took another large pull from the brandy glass. And most days she definitely felt a lot older than a few months shy of twenty three.

So no, definitely not Kim Possible's body. Her face was slightly rounder as well. That quack doctor in Illinois had told her that her breathing problems caused her to 'retain fluid.' She snorted and finished the last of the brandy in her glass. Just what she needed, looking like she had a never-ending menstruation.

'_Oh well…'_ she sighed heavily and thought to herself as she sat down behind her desk again, _'Questions for philosophers indeed. Now… what to do about shego?'_

Suddenly the answer came to her, like the proverbial bolt from the blue... It happened to be a green bolt. She grinned slowly, eyeing the dark red alligator skin trench coat hanging on the coat rack. She remembered its green counterpart, the one Shego wore.

"Just as easy as changing your colors…" She didn't have to buy Shego and her reputation… if she could transfer that reputation to herself. After all, she now had in her employ one of the best hackers around.

So now she needed to convince the mercenary to willingly part with her reputation and past… or maybe just part of it.

She pulled up all the latest 'wanted' info about Shego.

"Assault and attempted murder." Hmmm… Shego did have a temper… who had she assaulted this time?

"Drew Lipsky." Hmmm again… and he was in a coma. Oh, this would be perfect. Shego would be off the hook, just as Sara had promised in her cryptic text message, and Sara would in turn get the reputation she wanted… now she just needed to call Wade back… and set up a little meeting with Kelly Gomez of course.

**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**

A green glow flashed rapidly into and then out of existence. It was followed by a slower, steadier orange glow as the fire in the barrel grew. She was getting pretty damned tired of waiting. Five more minutes and she was gone… even sixty thousand dollars was not going to keep her in a cold late autumn San Francisco and at the whims of some eccentric who promised, but had yet to deliver, something that they had called a cover story.

The cashier's check had been waiting for her at the rather posh hotel she'd been told to go to upon landing in Frisco two weeks earlier. It had soothed her money worries considerably at the time. And whilst she had been cooling her heels, she'd even been able to deal with another GJE dog. This one had actually had the balls try to place her under arrest on some warrant. Not that he had use of them any longer, Global Justice really out to upgrade the quality of their athletic supporters.

"SSCA indeed." She snorted to herself. Her brothers may have been dumb enough to be taken in by such tripe… but they insisted on playing by the rules. They got what they deserved.

'_Did they Shego? They are your family after all.' _Shego groaned inwardly. Her Kim-conscious was back.

'_Okay, maybe they didn't _deserve_ it…' _she admitted irritably to herself. _'but better them than me.'_ she added with a grin.

'_and what about the other people who've been brought in on those warrants?' _

The voice of her annoying conscious seemed to be changing these days. It was less and less Kim's as she remembered it, though it still had Kim's face.

'_Motor Ed? He was pretty harmless... and he was sweet on you too. They took him in though.'_ The conscious went on despite her mental grumbles.

'_That blonde monkey is…! is...'_ her flare of anger at the misogynistic mechanic faded as she realized the Kim-voice had a point. Ed was pretty harmless, he just wanted to be left alone to tinker with his toys and rev loud engines; and he was Drakken's cousin after all…

'_yeah… and about drakken._' The Kim-conscious began again.

"Oh no!" Shego began to object aloud this time. "Doctor Dork'ken got what he deserved… pissing me off all the time! Every single day it was something! That annoying clown worked my every last nerve with his damned jar of pickles..."

'_but he was my clown.'_ The Kim-conscious picked up the train of thought in that same odd voice.

Shit!

Shit shit shit! It was Shego's own voice the image of Kimmie was speaking with, she realized, kicking herself mentally. She kicked herself again for letting that little redheaded twerp make her feel guilty about something she hadn't even thought about in months.

'_you almost killed him you know… I almost killed him.'_ The Kim-conscious was now quickly transforming in her mind, its hair growing dark and thick, its skin darkening… and finally, it was Shego.

And she loathed it for being Shego; because if it was Shego, it was her. Damn it, she had a conscious.

"But he deserved an ass kicking! He did!" She tried to object strongly, but her vehemence faded into an unsure whisper, "…he did."

"Who did?"

Chocolate eyes whirled around at the sound of a third voice. The voice was not her own, and it was not inside her head either.

The voice sounded odd, she realized. It took her a few seconds from having her internal dialogue-turned-monologue interrupted to realize that. Her eyes finally caught the source in the flickering firelight of the meeting-place she had been called to.

"Who deserved an ass kicking?" The voice definitely sounded off… as if the person speaking was trying to speak more deeply than they normally did. It was coming from a figure that wore a cloak of dark gray and stood at the edge of the fire light.

It was a cloak in the old sense, the sense of someone wearing a heavy cape and a hood. The hood was even tattered around the edges, allowing just enough firelight in to make out the speakers mouth. Obviously, with the money she was paying the mercenary, it didn't _have_ to be worn and tattered.

"Shit, just what I need… another theatrical employer…" Shego mumbled to herself. She spoke up to the cloaked figure, "Everyone's ass needs to be kicked for making me stand around in the cold, that's who!"

The figure nodded slightly. "I thought you'd enjoy the night sky… Sorry."

"Yeah whatever," Shego responded in a flippant manner, "Can we get on with this? I'm cold, I'm bored, and I wanna go out and get laid."

She smirked. The last bit was thrown in for shock value; she wanted to get this dingus off balance after waiting on them for two weeks.

She couldn't tell if Cloaky was shocked… or just pausing for their own dramatic value. Either way; the pause ended after a protracted moment.

"Fine, here's the deal. You're wanted for beating the hell out of your last boss. I can get you out of that... make sure you stop being hunted for a while."

"What makes you think I wouldn't do the same to you… making me wait around in the damned cold." Shego grimaced, interrupting as she tried to study her gray-draped companion.

"Because I know why you'd do something like that… It's not normal for you. The Shego I know is not into gratuitous violence. I respect you for that."

She was about to retort, and ask how 'Cloaky' knew her at all. The last sentence, however, froze her to the spot. It was as if she'd just been impaled on a very cold pike. Only one other person had spoken those words to her, about thirty seconds before she'd been…

Shego's vision started to blur. She realized after a moment that it was because she was starting to do something she hadn't done since she was twelve years old. She was starting to cry. She dug her talons into the palms of her hands. They didn't penetrate the metallic fabric of her gloves, but the pain was enough to clear her thoughts for a moment.

"Yeah… fuck you. Now, how are you going to get me off the wrap?" She went on bitterly as the moment passed, still digging at her palm.

"It's no concern of yours… Just know that it will be done. You'll find another check back at your hotel. Lay low… visit your precious Doctor… get laid, I don't care. Just don't get caught."

Shego's irritation grew again, and was again snuffed in the same moment by the cloaked figure as they seemed to reach into her deepest thoughts. How had the figure known who she was thinking of?

She hated that. She ignited her hands and held them up as if to strike the figure, eyes flashing over to an ethereal green.

The figure turned, though, and walked away. As it did, its profile was briefly illuminated by the plasma fire in Shego's hands. Shego saw short hair and an eye patch beneath the cloak's hood.

"Betty Director?" Shego whispered to herself, not able to handle half of the emotions running through her at the moment. She was torn suddenly, something else she was having to get used to with this damned conscious.

One half of her wanted to rip out the throat of GJE's top dog. The other half, however, thought that this couldn't be the old spy. That half won eventually and Shego let Cloaky just walk away because the appearance didn't match the facts.

She knew Betty Director to be dead. Cancer, she'd heard.

**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**

Once Sara was a few dozen yards away, safely round a corner and away from the alleyway meeting place, she lowered her hood, running her hand through her short, red, hair. She then reached a bit lower and tugged at her collar. The voice-alteration unit came away in her hand and she pocketed it. That had been slightly harder than she'd thought. Why the hell was that?

She replayed the exchange in her head as she walked now, the cloak flapping about her in the theatrical effect she had so carefully prepared it to.

'Everyone's ass needs to be kicked for making me stand around in the cold, that's who!'

'Yeah whatever,'

'Can we get on with this? I'm cold, I'm bored, and I wanna go out and get laid.'

She felt warmth in her cheeks as she replayed things. What the hell?! Was she blushing? She growled at

herself angrily. Kim Possible blushed at such talk… Sara did not.

She clenched her fist and smacked the wall she was passing firmly. Damn it! This body was betraying her again! Blushing when she shouldn't indeed!

She returned to her Lotus Esprit and angrily flipped the gull-wing door up, barely missing her own forehead in her smoldering irritation. She threw her cloak into the passenger seat irritably. Cloak shed, she unzipped the black unitard that had been beneath, exposing pale skin down to her belly button and shivering as cold autumn air hit bared flesh. She then turned, running her hand through her hair once more, sweeping it back with the sweat wearing that cloak had caused.

Examining herself in the reflection on the Lotus's black gloss paint job, she nodded approval at her own sexiness. Even her new prosthetic arm was well disguised under the sleek body suit and black gloves, and she approved the dangerously alluring mystery the eye patch lent. She then slid down into the driver's seat.

Some obnoxiously loud music and pretty boys should take care of this damned blushing problem. Tomorrow she could afford to laze about a bit, She'd sent the files Wade had given her on to the contractor working on her _other_ new arm, and all she could do now was wait until the surgeon called her about scheduling the second implantation.

**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**

_Author's notes additional: I was going to alter this one more substantially before, but as I read through it, I came to decided that what it needed was not whole new scenes, but minor changes in the dialogue and a few random facts. _


	8. Chapter 8

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

_Redux_

_Pt 8_

By Eoraptor

_Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company ©2002-2007. Full disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1._

_Now, on with the Story..._

_Please leave reviews?_

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

"So what do salad fixings have to do with bombs?" Monique was sitting up on the weight bench, a towel draped over her shoulders as she worked to slow her breathing.

"Salad?" T blinked from the parallel bars he was dangling from.

"Chronotrons, not crutons…" J piped up as he stared at a computer screen in the basement of the Possible household. "Time particles. They're all over in these pictures."

"Oh, okay. So what do _chronotrons_ have to do with bombs?"

The twins had been taking turns analyzing things, since she couldn't get both the pictures and the sample from that scrap yard for them to work on. Secretly, Monique was glad for the turn-taking… one brain meant she could stall down here longer. And that meant she could keep putting off coffee with Ron. Two weeks now she'd been putting it off.

Ostensibly, the gym and lab in the basement were to keep J and T occupied. They'd told Mrs. Possible that it helped them to de-stress from therapy. Therapy was a cover too of course. That was when they met up with Monique, who they would occasionally "run into" on the way back from Middleton to the new house in the hills near Upperton.

They hadn't been to an actual grief therapy session that had lasted more than ten minutes in months. Once the ten minutes were up and they were shown to be attending, they'd excuse themselves politely and meet up with their partner.

Jim and Tim Possible obviously didn't want their parents knowing that they were helping Monique get into the world saving business, the very business that had killed their sister. They _really_ didn't want the senior Possible's to know that they were working out to maybe go out there with her.

The twins were finally beginning to discover that they could be pretty athletic if they put their minds, or rather their bodies, to it. A pair of buff line-backer types were rapidly replacing the twin boys with the computer-geek physiques; much to Monique's surprise and slight envy.

T especially, was beginning to ride Monique about her reliance on the battle suit. She had grumbled and again pointed out that she didn't have the jeans for it, while holding a bag of Club Banana… the joke had gone right over his head, as most of her jokes seemed to.

"So, what about Ron?" came out a question of the blue. Monique groaned into her towel and prepared to launch into one of a number of diatribes she'd been repeating these past few weeks. She still wanted to know how it was the Possible Twins had figured that one out the morning after it had happened, from another state.

**--Mom Alert, Mom Alert--**

"I don't believe it… saved by the bell." Monique muttered. Computer screens were automatically changing to still serious looking but less incriminating information as the faintly alarming… …alarm went off.

"Oh, Monique!" Anne Possible smiled politely as she stepped off the top step and moved down the stairs. "I didn't know you were stopping by?" Her smile seemed to dim just a bit as she remembered Monique had been by quite a bit lately. Was she… involved… with one of the boys? Oh, well that wouldn't be so bad, she thought; they were growing up after all.

Smile thus renewed, she continued down the steps. For once, the boys weren't doing the same thing at the same time she noticed. This added to her suspicions, but it wasn't her place to question who the boys dated… That was James's part in parenting the kids, something he'd proven to be very interested in early on after their daughter discovered boys.

"Hey Mrs. P. Looking glowey as usual." Monique smiled brightly in return, wiping her face off. "The boys were just telling me about this killer new fabric they thought up; and C.B. might be interested… you could have two very wealthy sons' soon."

It was a prearranged cover story of course. It didn't explain why she was currently on the weight bench in tights, but the Possible's didn't seem to mind her being around and working out with the boys every now and then during the past few weeks.

"Why thank you Monique." She smiled that warm motherly smile at the compliment, and turned to see what Jim was actually working on at his computer. "A new fabric boys? Is that what all those brown scraps in your molecular reclaimer were that I found last week cleaning?"

Jim winced at his computer. He'd forgotten about the battle suit scraps left in the reclaimer after the last upgrade. Fortunately, his mother didn't notice the wince, so he quickly nodded his affirmation.

"Mrs. P! Cleaning? I'm shocked! A woman in your condition…" Monique quickly picked up, thinking fast.

"…is not an invalid." Anne came right back, a playful smirk on her face. "Monique dear, I know you're a bit young to realize it; but I'm four months pregnant, not in a wheel chair. And even if I was, I am still the mother of two very troublesome seventeen year olds."

Both boys ducked their heads, as if shamed by an unspoken insult.

"So, hows the Foundation treating you?" Monique continued after a moment also spent eyeing the twins Possible.

"Oh, god Monique… If I thought brain surgery was hard… it's got nothing on federal grant paperwork. But then again, I suppose anything with Kim Possible's name attached to it is bound to be complicated." She smiled a weary smile.

Anne Possible, Monique knew, was now the chairwoman of the Kim Possible Foundation; a scholarship organization that was targeted towards young women interested in political science and law. It had been established with the money that poured in during the days following Kim's death. Money which would have been impolite, not to mention politically delicate in some cases, to refuse. Rather than just let the money sit in a disused bank account, or give it back and risk insulting the donors; James and Anne had decided to do something to create a living memory of the Kim that the world didn't get to see on a day-to-day basis.

"Lots of R.T. on the Benjamins huh?" Monique was getting up to grab a bottle of water, even as Mrs. Possible was handing one to her.

"Yes," Anne replied after a moment, thinking she knew what the younger woman's abbreviation meant this time. "Yes, lots and lots of R.T. dear."

"And speaking of conditions, do you know the sex of the next little Possible?" Monique grinned, eyeing Anne's faintly swollen abdomen.

J and T both perked up at this, their attention suddenly riveted as they waited to know if they would know whether they were going to have a baby brother or sister.

"Yes Dear… In fact, I just came back from the OBGYN. Do you think you could design us some nice… stylin' pink swaddling?" Anne grinned a bit, enjoying the chance to sound cool around her boys and their friend.

Monique nearly shrieked for joy. J and T smiled, but looked at each other in consternation as their resident detective sank into "Full and Total Girl Mode."

"FTGM?" Jim asked from the computer quietly.

"To the max. Maybe we better get scarce." Tim responded as covertly.

"Oh Fine boys… go on and get." Anne grumped playfully, easily picking up on the boys' code. After they had fled up the stairs, she sat down in the now vacant computer chair.

"What about you Monique? Any special man in your life?" her olive colored eyes glanced slightly at the closing basement door.

"Oh… there's a few, just no one I want to be procreatin' with." She nodded self consciously, suddenly very interested in the fabric of her towel.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll meet someone dear. What boy wouldn't want to date a woman who hangs out around fashion models all day?" Anne smirked slightly, patting Monique on the knee. She sat back and sipped her own bottle of water a bit.

Monique didn't bother to volunteer that she'd been on sabbatical from Club Banana's purchasing department now for nearly nine months herself. She could go back any time… but she had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

She pulled hard at her own bottle of water, making it pop. She then decided that since Kim's mom was in such a fabulous mood, she might be ripe for a little _surveiling_.

"Mrs. P., did Kim ever say anything about a new enemy when you talked?" Monique went straight for the heart of the issue, hoping to use a little shock and awesome to get her answers.

Anne's smile evaporated pretty quickly. She'd thought she was long done answering those questions. Then again, this was Kim's best girl friend asking, not some nameless bureaucrat or GJE investigator. She sighed heavily thinking back to painful days, and to days before painful days, before answering.

"No dear… no one that she ever mentioned to me. She wasn't even taking missions as often, you know?" She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep tears from coming to her olive-hued eyes. "W-why do you ask?"

"Oh… Just that Ron and Wade and I were thinking about the good ole' days and wondering bout it all… Silly I guess, what with Global Justice Enforcement on the case." She tossed the answer off flippantly, hoping that it and the question were accepted that way.

"Oh, okay hon…" Anne answered after a moment's consideration. She wanted to believe that was the end of it… but something told her it wasn't. It was a voice she didn't like hearing in her mind, because it was the kind of voice a mother always had to listen to, one that never boded well.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Global Justice Enforcement Director William Du looked as though his face were trying to crawl its way round to the back of his skull just to avoid looking at the man before him. He understood why they were meeting in private like this, and even why the man's strategy was so formidable. What he didn't understand was why Dr. Al Norm's appearance was anything but ordered for a man who prided himself on rigorous attention to order and probability.

"Everything is going according to plan I see…" Norm practically purred. He sat there, in a lab coat that looked like it was sewn together from the coats of several now-deceased clowns, stroking a clipboard that sat in his lap.

"Yes Dr. Norm," Will began, trying not to be blinded by the patch-work coat. He couldn't help but notice, as the Technicolor lab-coat forced his eyes upwards and away, that the man's hair also seemed to belong to several different people, along with his diabolical looking goatee.

"…yes. Things are proceeding exactly as you'd predicted. The world's various governments are giving Global Justice Enforcement all of the powers and authority you'd said they would. After I made sure to take Global Justice public and lend its resources to the United States and to the member nations who held interests inside of the Tower at the time it was attacked, it accelerated to power transfer."

"Good lad… Soon everything will be nice and orderly. Just as I said, from chaos…"

"…comes normalcy." Will repeated as if by wrote. He'd heard the doctor say those words so often he felt as if he might begin chanting them in his sleep. "Yes Doctor. Our plan seems to be working well. That rogue agent Possible is out of the way, Shego seems to have gone deeply into hiding these past two weeks, and we have GJE agents in one-hundred and two countries already, working in official capacities now instead of skulking in the shadows."

"Yes yes… more's the pitty that fate couldn't have eliminated Miss Go's random contribution along with Miss Possible's. However… her ripple won't do much to disturb the plot of our graph."

Will kept his face passive. These mathematic metaphors were starting to work his nerves.

When Doctor Director had announced her retirement nearly a year and a half ago, Doctor Norm had come to then Agent in Charge Du with a plan. It seemed incredibly grandiose, and relied on a lot of what-if's that Will had then not been comfortable with.

After the first what-if, his being named Director, came to pass; Will started listening to the flamboyantly dressed statistician. His probabilities showed that Kim Possible would have to fail sooner or later, and that when she did so it would be spectacular. That was why Will had asked for her on the Sears Tower… The higher the profile, the more likely the failure, Norm had said.

And indeed, with the 99.6% factor that Dr. Al Norm had predicted, she'd been blown not only to bits, but right out of existence. It had indeed been a spectacular, if disturbingly accurate turn of events. From that point on, Director Du had started to incorporate more of Norm's probabilities in with his own plans for redesigning Global Justice in his own image.

Norm had yet to make a mistake, and his recommendations were helping Director Du to make the world a much safer place. Everything was being done by the book, just the way he liked it. Laws were being passed that let his people take care of the bad guys with increasing ease and latitude; and that meant that no rules had to be broken when dealing with both super-villains and Mafioso.

Rules of Evidence, in Will's opinion anyway, were cumbersome. The more insidious foes knew that and made his life as an agent hell over it. Yet, they were still rules… which meant they had to be followed. Now that most of the world's governments were allowing GJE to ignore the usual rules, and writing new ones for them in fact, Will found his tasks much more easily accomplished.

"So, Doctor Norm," The Director clasped his hands before himself, "what does your handy little chart say our next challenge is likely to be?"

Norm eyed him in a way Will was not entirely sure he was comfortable with. "93.2 percent chances are that Shego will reappear soon and resume whatever crusade she believes she has against our agents, Director."

"And just what does she have in the way of crusades?" Will wondered aloud. Shego had badly beaten nearly a dozen of his people in the last six months… One she had apparently caused the death of. Certainly she had reason to fear the enforcers taking her in on any of a number of warrants, but it seemed as though she were on some sort of personal vendetta against Global Justice Enforcement; one she had not held before.

"I don't know… even my charts can't read minds Director Du." Dr. Norm responded to the half-asked question. Du eyed the painfully colorful stats-man again, and boggled at his eagerness to answer any question posed to him with authority.

"Fine fine… What do the numbers say would be the best way to handle her?" he eyed Norm carefully still, concentrating on his ever-present clipboard to avoid the man's coat and hair, or those wild eyes; one blue and one brown.

The man, Du thought, looked as if he had just been given the keys to the mint. "Chances are that Shego will try to get closer to GJE's upper echelon agents, such as Miss Justice. If she does… the best thing to do would be to allow her to over-exert herself. Once she has tired, she is eighty-two percent more likely to lose her temper and make a critical error, which will lead to her death."

Will frowned at this. There'd been a lot of death in Norm's numbers lately… more than in any previous projections he remembered seeing, but then again, they lived in more active times.

"Fine… Fine then…" he sighed after a moment. "Oh, and there seems to be a new player. Someone broke into a U.S. Government scrap-metal yard. They've been linked to UniquePossiblities dot com. Any thoughts?"

"Someone wants to be the next Kim Possible… Director Du." Norm leaned forward. He almost seemed eager, Du thought now, as he was forced to look at the man's ill-aligned grin and the crooked teeth behind it.

"…and? Do we dare hope she fails less spectacularly than Miss Possible did?" The Director frowned. He disliked strongly freelancers like Possible, who knew no chain of command.

"I would not doubt it Director." Norm lied smoothly. He'd not predicted someone would take up Possible's mantle so soon. He aimed to make sure it didn't last. Such willy-nilly crime fighting needed to be nipped in the bud. It just wasn't normal to run around in tights at the ringing of a beeper. It. Just. Wasn't. Normal.

"This person has a high likelihood of getting in over their head before they can get to such a dangerous place."

"Good. I hope you're batting average stays high Dr. Norm. Good Day."

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Touching the bandages around the newer implants, Sara smiled. The first set, implanted last week, had worked as promised. They'd allowed her to control and operate her new prosthetic as though it were the arm she'd been born with. The weight of that arm was a little off-putting, but she was willing to trade the slight extra load on her shoulder to regain a nearly full range of motion on her left side.

This second, more complicated set of implants didn't even itch. They were implanted under the skin, so there was nothing exposed to risk infection or inflammation, and would allow her the control needed to operate her second, more complex prosthetic.

With a smirk, Sara drew a sleeveless red turtleneck over her bare torso, and with a slight grunt of effort, popped her remnant through the proper arm hole. She was not looking forward to a week without the use of _any_ prosthesis, but she was already pushing her recovery schedule. In a little over a week, she would be able to attach her newer, realistic limb again on a limited basis, and a week after that, she could start playing with her _other _new toy.

"And to think, I owe it all to a squat little German who sells junk chips on eVile." The redhead smirked as she adjusted her clothes. She was talking to herself, although the Swiss nursing staff that was there to help her was still in the recovery room.

"Still, you must admit," she continued, this time to the Hechco nurse she'd been assigned for the next week to tend the incisions, "Only a week for recovery from a major surgical implant directly on to my nerves is fairly impressive… I should send Bortle a fruit basket or something."

Smiling at the rapid progress she was making, in body as well as in planning, Sara gave one of the male orderlies a smack on the ass. "Ein was für reizvoller Mann! Sind Sie heute Abend beschäftigt?"

Her assigned nurse clucked her tongue and frowned. "Kein Geschlecht oder Anstrengung für zwei Wochen, Fräulein Smith. Sie wissen dieses."

Sara gave a pout and frowned. Then again, it was probably the pain killers talking, she was certain she wouldn't feel nearly as confident or sexy in about an hour when the anesthesia was out of her system. "Fine fine… give me a call in two weeks, Superman."

With a shake of her hips, the redhead strutted out of the room, leaving confused glances and one irritated nurse in her wake.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_Author's notes continued: Yay, enter our villains. I'm hoping I've given you enough to hang yourse- erm enough to keep reading and guessing what may happen next. ^_^_

_And what's this? An entire chapter without Shego? What kind of fanfiction is this turning into?! Well, I did insert a new scene with Sara at least, previously this chapter had only Will and Norm, and the scene at the Possible House. And to any german speakers… Sorry about the last section… It's babelfish. I can read and understand only a tiny bit of German, not enough to get across the exchange I wanted. _


	9. Chapter 9

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

_Redux_

_Pt 9_

By Eoraptor

_Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company ©2002-2007. Full disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1._

_Now, on with the Story..._

_Please leave reviews?_

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Ron Stoppable stared into the mirror. Blue eyes stared back at him. They were worried eyes. Eyes worried about something as simple as coffee.

He splashed the water from the basin on his face, and then began working the lather across his cheeks and jaw. As he drew the razor along his cheek, so close to the mirror, he couldn't help but notice the faint pock-marks. Every rectangular streak of shaving foam removed revealed a few.

The small marks were faint, but they were there. Reminders of an October night in Chicago. That night he'd been forty-five feet from an exploding Trans-particle Vortex Recombinator; not that he knew that was what it was called. All Ron new was that shrapnel from it had scarred his face and hands, and had also cut out a part of his heart.

As he shaved away a few more whiskers, Ron studied his face, wondering if anyone would ever want to hold it the way the woman he lost that night once had. Kim had enjoyed caressing his cheeks and kissing his forehead, he thought as he sighed to himself and rinsed his blade again.

'_well, maybe someone?'_ the thought came unbidden to Ron's mind as he placed the blade along one side of his chin, carefully cutting around one area. He shook his head, he was feeling very… …conflicted lately.

"diabolical" came a chipper little voice from his left shoulder. It broke his revelry for a moment, and he frowned at the mole-rat playing conscious.

"Hey, we've talked about this buddy… it does not make me look diabolical. It makes me look mature." He smirked and leaned forward to rinse his face. Rufus scrambled clumsily around to keep from falling in to the basin of swirling warm water and shave-scum.

"Now knock of the diabolical stuff or I'll shave _your_ whiskers." Ron grinned and eyed Rufus's reflection, stroking his own renewed goatee.

"hu-uh hu-uh!" the molerat chirped rapidly, burying his face under his arm and shivering. The move made Ron notice the molerat's left arm, the mostly-limp one, and he sighed faintly. Rufus seemed to be able to move it a bit better now, but Ron doubted he'd ever scurry quite as quickly as he once did.

"Okay buddy… I think you better sit this one out… Besides, the JavaLux doesn't allow pets." Rufus made a sour face, considering himself anything and everything but a pet.

"Yeah, sorry buddy, I know it's not bueno, but them's the breaks." He carefully set his little companion down on the back of the chair as he walked into the living room of his small apartment. Rufus continued to grumble and chatter, and stepped on the remote, turning on the Animal Planet.

"most extreme!" he chirred when he saw what was on, feeling a little less irritated if he could at least watch his favorite show.

A few minutes later Ron was in downtown Middleton, eyeing the JavaLux reluctantly. He stared at the glass door, not entering yet. He'd gone over what had happened three weeks ago in Chicago over and over again. He'd been to Kim's memorial ceremony. He and Monique had gone out to a music club to commiserate.

He'd had a beer. He'd danced a bit with Monique. He had another beer. He danced with Monique again. He'd seen someone he thought he recognized while going to get a third beer for he and Monique. They drank, danced again…

Then he'd woken up, half dressed, next to a similarly garbed Monique. What in the name of all that's Diablo had happened in between?! Ron rubbed the bridge of his nose and grumbled a bit to himself.

The lesser questions about what he had heard while hiding in the bathroom were there too, but they kind of paled compared to whether or not he had slept with Kim's other best friend on the night of her memorial service and dedication of a plaque in her honor.

"Oh well, standing around out here isn't going to answer anything, is it?" He walked up to the JavaLux doors and they slid aside for him. He looked around, and spied Monique finally. She was wearing a stylish pink cashmere sweater against the late-autumn chill of northern California.

Ron waved, a little meekly. Monique did the same, cuffing one hand inside the wrist of her sweater. He made his way to the little booth she was in, sliding in across from her. He didn't meet her eyes, instead choosing to focus on the specials of the day, including Thanksgiving Pumpkin-pie Spiced Chai. Sounded good he thought, trying to distract himself.

"Hey Ron."

"Hey"

"Your ready to order? My treat, remember?"

"Sure... this chai stuff looks good."

They were silent for a few minutes. Their drinks arrived, and each stared into their own for a few minutes.

"You know…" Monique began after another few minutes, caramel eyes looking up from her coffee, "I don't really remember what happened in Chicago."

Ron rubbed the back of his neck, looking up from his own cooling drink and chuckling nervously. "Hehehe, neither do I actually."

"Oh thank god... I was starting to feel like a total O.N.S.B. if it was just me." She sighed as if someone had just lifted a lead weight from her shoulders. She saw the confused look in Ron's eyes and smirked.

"Oh come on Stoppable… One Night Stand Bitch. You've hung with me long enough to know that one." She smirked more and swatted him lightly across the shoulder.

"Hehe hehe, yeah, I guess so Monique." He sighed as well, but she could tell his blue eyes still held some guilt. She was sure her own eyes probably did as well, despite the confession.

"Okay Monique… So we don't remember… doesn't mean something didn't happen." He finally spoke up, voicing what they were both thinking and trying to overcome shy reluctance.

"Yeah… sure doesn't." She sighed again, looking glumly at her coffee, finally taking a sip after a moment. It wasn't as though she didn't trust Ron and want to believe he would have been a total gentleman, but there was still a voice at the back of her head saying gentlemen didn't wake up in bed next to you with their pants across the room.

"Okay… So what do you remember? Maybe if we both…" He wasn't sure what to say on the subject, and it sounded like a stupid idea as soon as it started to come out of his mouth.

"I remember drinking a few beers, and dancing with you. Boy, you got about the worst case of whiteboy-rythmitis I ever saw." She chuckled a bit, chiding him, remembering him trying to keep up with the beat of the throbbing pulse of Chicago blues and light rock that had been playing. "What happened to all that world saving monkey mojo?"

"Yeah I know… KP used to tell me I needed lessons all the time." He smiled a bit as well, sipping his drink also.

"Knew I liked that girl for some reason." Monique laughed a bit, sipping her drink again. She pursed her lips, and let the speaking of Kim's name pass, as so often happened when she and Ron or she and the boys talked these days.

"Okay," Ron picked up the thread of conversation after a moment, "I remember getting up to get us some more drinks. When I came back there was a woman sitting next to you… she looked familiar…"

Monique frowned a bit, concentrating at the last of the night that either of them seemed to remember clearly. "Yeah, I remember too… She was… She was taking the drinks from you, and put them on the bar in front of us. She was one slick operator, boots, leather coat, bedroom eyes. I was sure she was trying to pick you up. Then I thought it was way harsh the way she called you… doofus?"

Ron's frown of consternation matched Monique's as he worked to remember. The woman had called him a doofus, yeah. And she spilled part of his drink. Or had she…? "Yeah… she made a mess all over the bar when she swung the beer at me. And she had on this…"

"Stylin' green coat…" Monique continued, filling in more, "And long black boots… Ron, did she put something in our beer?"

"Maybe… Wait… she called me 'doofus'." Ron was still stuck on something.

"Shit!" Came the cry from someone standing at the register who'd just managed to spill hot coffee right on his leather pants.

"Sheesh! The language of some people!" Ron scoffed. Then he stopped, because Monique's chocolate eyes went wide as she sounded out the words across the table from him.

"Shit… Sheesh… Shi… She…"

"Shego!" They both nearly screamed the name in unison as recognition and memory struck home. Everyone in the coffee house turned to face them, except for the tall man rapidly fanning hot coffee from his crotch.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

-One Month Later; Seniors' Island, The Mediterranean-

She eyed the package before her wearily. It was moving; she was certain of it. She could swear she heard it mewl at her.

"Shego, my dear… Please don't stare at the tree… I'm afraid you plasma might ignite it. It was quite dry by the time the men delivered it to the dock yesterday you know…" The elderly Latin man chuckled softly, white brows rising warmly beneath his luxuriously trimmed Santa hat.

She sat back petulantly, still eyeing the intricately wrapped package with her name on it. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, turning to look at her host.

"Oh dear… Such a pout I have not seen since the days our little redheaded friend hosted Christmas parties in California…" He chuckled again, his eyes seeming to drift from the moment slightly. "She would pout in almost that exact manner when Mrs. Possible made her wait to eat the still-cooling gingerbread men the year that she invited Junior and I and your Drakken to a truce…"

Shego tried to look fiercely irritated at the comparison, but it wasn't in her. Her pout faded into a grin and she chuckled a bit too. She stood up and went over to Senor Senior Senior, patting him on a stooped shoulder, and looked back at the tree. "Oh please… No one cold pout like Kimmie."

"Thanks for having me Gramps… I hate this laying low shi-," She paused, catching herself in the curse. "This laying low stuff…"

He eyed her with watery blue eyes for a moment, and smiled, to let her know the slip was forgiven. "Of course my dear… With Junior off in Aspen with that singing woman of his, it's wonderful to have some company on the island."

"That boy…" She growled just a bit, clenching her fist, "Leaving his father all alone on Christmas! I thought I taught him better than that!"

"I'm afraid Junior has forgotten most of the lessons you taught him my dear. He has all but given up on our quest to rule the world." The old man's rich accent did not hide his sorrow at the widening of the gulf between the two of them. "This Honey person, however, seems to believe he will be the next great thing."

"Yeah… Probably better for him that way. World-domination just ain't what it used to be with..." She had to bite back some bile to even get the name out, "Global Justice Enforcement."

"Ah yes… ever since that young Mister Du took over, things have just not been the same… At least Betty Director played by the old rules, no?" The aging Mediterranean lamented, "Shego, I am more than happy to help you reek whatever personal vengeance it is you have in store for them since you came to me... even if you have not told me why. It is an excellent stance of evil tradition after all. But come… it is Christmas morning, let us open gifts."

Shego's scowl became a child-like grin again. There were only two presents under the tree, one from each to the other. On the Senior's Island, gifts were few, but pricey. She handed her gift for him to Senior Senior and grinned eagerly.

Steady, time-worn hands carefully undid the red and green paper and intricate bow, lifting a small wooden box free after a moment.

"Oh my goodness… It is truly lovely! How did you know I had wanted one of these?" The old man held up the gold pocket watch and pressed the bezel, causing a laser to shoot out and scorch a near-by tile.

"A girl has her ways of knowing, Gramps." He chuckled at the nickname that playfully was applied to him.

"Please, open yours… I'm worried it- he will make a mess…" Shego's raven brow arched at that hint, and she whirled, gleefully picking up the package.

She thought better of shaking it, since it really did move in her hands. She carefully unwrapped the green shimmering paper, and squealed when a pair of slitted blue eyes blinked out at her.

"mew."

A warm smile spread across the old man's face, removing years from the leathery wrinkles and uplifting his eyes. "His name is Othello… He's a black leopard cub. But you probably knew that already."

Shego reached in and tugged out the little kitten. He was only slightly larger than a housecat kitten, and so incredibly soft. She clutched him carefully to her chest with one arm, and tightly hugged Senior Senior with the other.

"Oh, he's perfect! How did you?"

"…an old man has his ways too you know, my dear." He smiled warmly, patting her shoulder as he went to sit down. "You've seemed so lonely these past few weeks. I though a companion closer to your own age might cheer you up."

She smirked and stuck her pink tongue out at him. He knew damned well she was turning thirty-two in a few weeks, even if she acted half that or less some times. If anything, the three of them were about equidistant in age. Still, she appreciated it; she had been lonely. She would never admit it to anyone, least of all herself, though.

She and Senior spent the next few hours discussing Christmas, villainy, and various other things, and watching Othello fumble around in the wrapping paper in his kittenish way.

"So my dear, shall we adjourn to dinner? I'm afraid I could not get a goose this far south… but I think you'll find the sea bass…"

The discussion was rudely interrupted by alarms screaming for attention and steel shutters dropping in to place over the windows.

'What the hell?" Shego growled and ran to the monitor to find out who had interrupted their holiday.

She blinked at what she saw in a rather stupid manner. Señor Senior Senior hobbled over to her and looked at the screen. He didn't blink, but he may as well have. "My dear… How can you be robbing me, and standing next to me at the same time?"

They watched as someone clad in green and black threw a bolt of roiling green plasma against the lock to the lower hangar bay. The figure, moving fully on to the tarmac and into the view of the camera then, shocked them both. If it was Shego, it was a Shego straight out of the Book of Revelation.

"Damned if I know… but I intend to find out."

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_Author's notes additional: Didn't see that coming did you? Or maybe you did… if you've seen the art "Darkness Within" is based on… So, for this redux chapter, no new scenes, but I think I seriously managed to smooth out the awkwardness of the first section, and flesh out the second with info that will be important in the sequel "_God Save the Tweebs_". _

_Bonus Points and a cookie to anyone who got the "JavaLux" and "spilled coffee" reference._


	10. Chapter 10

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

Redux

Pt 10

By_ Eoraptor_

_Boring legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company. Disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1._

_Now, on with the Story..._

_Please follow the three R's; __**Read Review and Recommend.**_

_**Reviews **__equal__** Love**_

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Meanwhile, across the globe, in a basement in Middleton California, J and T were staring a bit dumbfounded at what they were watching on screen. Dumbfounded was perhaps not the best word to describe their expressions, but it was closest to describing the mixture of amazement, success, and shock that continually rolled across each boy's face.

It was still late December twenty-fourth in California, and their present to Monique was being put to rather stunning use already.

"I can't believe it worked…" Jim marveled quietly.

"I thought we were going to turn her brain into a tofurkey for sure…" Tim nodded his surprise at their success as well.

On the recently cleared floor of the basement gym, Monique was executing a half twist at the apex of a back flip which had taken her a good seven feet into the air. It was made all the more spectacular by the way her body flattened to avoid the basement ceiling while in mid-flip.

When she landed with her hands, she rolled smoothly to her knees, crouched, and used the momentum to vault forward across the floor as if tackling an imagined foe. With no opponent to stop her, she rolled again and brought her legs into a rather theatrical scissors-kick. Her entire body then seemed to crack like a whip, as she went from flat onto her back to standing erect, took a sweeping bow, and breathed heavily.

"Kickin!" She panted as she stood back up. Then she grabbed the bridge of her nose as her eyes went cross, beginning to stumble back and just catching herself on the weight bench flopping onto her seat. The twins were at her side in a second.

"You okay Monique?" Jim Possible swept an arm under her arms and shoulders to steady her as Tim pulled a small item from the back of her neck.

Still holding the bridge of her nose, Monique swatted at the back of her neck as the chip was tugged free, four tiny holes in her skin quickly closing as its prongs were removed. She scratched and rubbed a moment more before sighing and straightening.

"Wicked… now there's a rush." she groaned out softly, turning to look at the device in T's palm. It was round, about the size of a quarter, and dominated by a glowing red glass bubble. That light, at the moment, was blinking in a sequence that only the boys could interpret, and T made mental note of what it meant.

"Well, it _is_ a lot for your mind to take in. Accelerating your brain's learning centers and memory so you can learn at super speed and all." J was still supporting her, her sweat soaking rapidly through his shirt as she slowed her own breathing.

"Yeah, we couldn't download stuff straight into your brain, but at least we can help you learn it faster." Tim quipped as he carefully put the chip back onto its holder, connecting it to the computer. "A lot faster. I mean, sixteen gigabytes of acrobatics in just half a day and all instead of you know, years…"

Monique, still panting faintly from the exertion of the little floor-show, nodded dumbly and carefully extricated herself from J's support. Even her muscles were now responding as though she'd spent her toddler years on the uneven bars instead of with toy curlers and candy lipstick.

"Damn… gonna have to bulk up the body to keep up with the brain," she grumbled, noticing as she stood the way that her thighs rebelled against the act. She grabbed J's shoulder for assistance and took a hard pull on the water bottle she had been handed, caving it in as she sucked the liquid gratefully from the plastic.

"Well duh… you've been using the suit as muscle, Monique." J smirked and eyed her as he kept her steady. He shifted to a slightly more comfortable position as she continued to lean on him and decimate the water bottle.

His quip was met with a rueful sand-colored eye, and he had to duck to avoid a rapidly snapped towel moving down from her shoulder. He chuckled and snatched the towel out of her grasp, snapping it back at her and inadvertently causing her to tumble over.

"…and I bet you're just enjoying the hell out of this, aren't you white-bread?" She smirked up at him, sprawled across his lap awkwardly. She peeled herself again out of his grasp after a wry moment and flopped down onto the floor in front of the weight bench, still working on not wheezing like she'd just done what she'd just done in the way of exercise.

ꜟ_**mom alert, mom alert!**_

Anne possible came down the stairs in time to see her son Jim blushing and flustered, but not soon enough to have learned why. She eyed Monique sitting cross-legged before him, and arched a claret brow wryly, descending the last few steps with a plate of cookies and three glasses of milk.

"Oh dear, am I interrupting?"

"Christmas cookies are never an interruption Mrs. P… No matter what your boys say about being too old for C & M" Monique grinned as she rose, having caught most of her breath and taking the tray laden with Christmas incarnate.

The women chuckled with each other before Monique attacked the glass of milk with the same fervor she'd destroyed the bottled water. The boys, of course, attacked the cookies while forgoing any protestations of being too old for such fare.

"So, Monique… how was San Francisco?"

"Frisco's always fun, Mrs. P. But I'm glad to be home in time for the holiday." Monique self-consciously wiped some sweat from her chest and neck. She suddenly realized what things must have looked like when she caught Anne's attempt to be nonchalant and looked up again.

She realized she wasn't sure which would be a worse thought for the older woman to have, that she was engaging in sweat-provoking activities with one or both of Mrs. Possible's boys, or that the boys were helping her assume Kim's role as hero. The darker woman decided to change the subject to one that always got Anne distracted.

"And has the lil girl been behaving herself over the holiday?" She eyed Anne's slowly swelling tummy warmly, taking another large drink of milk before selecting a cookie to nibble at.

"Yes… for the most part anyway." Anne smiled back. She was not fooled for a moment at the topic change; but she was happy to discuss the life growing within her. "She was a bit fussy for a few mornings, but at least Nana was here to help… I think she's hoping that we'll name the baby after her, actually. She was a bit put off when the boys were named after James, and Kim for my mother."

Monique grinned and giggled just a bit. Nana Possible was one of her favorite old people. She was equal parts Anne and Kim Possible in Monique's eyes, with a little drill sergeant thrown in for good measure; and that was pretty high praise from the fashion-designer turned detective. She could just see the strong-willed matriarch dropping overt 'hints' that she wanted a namesake.

"So, any thoughts on the name beyond 'Nana'?" The younger made air quotes and picked up the thread of the conversation.

"Well, James says he has a great aunt that he's been learning about… I'm not sure I want to name our little girl Miriam, though…"

"Huh… Mim Possible. Why am I not surprised?" Monique smirked slightly, thinking she had heard that name somewhere before.

"Yeah… that's probably the only thing it's got going for it." Anne chuckled softly and rubbed her belly.

"Speaking of things going on…" her eyes moved from Monique, to Jim on the weight bench and back in a fairly obvious manner. She hoped that Monique would take the hint and follow her to a quiet corner.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Ron sighed as he sat in the car, looking at the Possible's house. He wanted to be in there. Wanted so badly to get that little bit of tradition back. Ever since he was six he had spent every Christmas with the Possibles, Jewish or not. Sitting round the tree, exchanging gifts, eating turkey, sweet potatoes, candied cranberries, greenbean casserole, and whatever misshapen lump Kim was calling gingerbread men this year…

The blond chuckled to himself, remembering the one with three arms and a leg that looked a little bit like… well, thirteen year old Kim's face had turned red as her hair that time. Man how she could blu-

Just like that, the sweet memory twisted and turned back on him, and Rom allowed his forehead to fall forward against the steering wheel and tears slid down his cheeks and onto the cracked vinyl. He sniffled, sobbing for several minutes as Rufus rubbed his hand and sat on the shifter knob.

"S'okay… s'okay…" he chirred as he watched his human shudder and sob.

"N- no, no its not Okay, Rufus!" Ron yelled in the confines of the car. "It was stupid of me to come out here!"

The molerat winced at the shout, but shook his small head. "Not stupid, huh-uh!"

"Oh yeah?" Ron turned his bloodshot eyes on his rodential friend and sniffed, "Then what is it?"

"…lonely…" Rufus whined, and patted the boy's hand again. He pointed one of his clawed hands up at the door to the Possible's house. "Inside… family."

Sniffling, he looked up towards the front door, with its jolly holiday wreath. "Really?"

"Mhm, mhm!" the molerat nodded emphatically. "Go on!"

With another long, shuddering sigh, Ron opened the door, with a rusty creak, and stepped out into the cool Christmas evening. He ascended the slanting walk-way and raised his hand towards the door, to knock on the little brass knocker in the center of the wreath.

Until the door opened, and his knuckled wrapped against Monique's forehead.

"Owe! Ron!" She hissed and clutched her face, shooting him a slightly annoyed look between her fingers.

"Monique! What are you doing here?"

She gave him another appraising look, and rubbed her forehead a bit, "developing a bruise apparently, baby boy. What about you?"

Well…" he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying not to sniffle at the smell of the gingerbread cookies that came wafting out the door at him.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

Shego was not sure how she was supposed to be feeling. She descended the spiral staircase out of Señor Senior Senior's spacious apartment, down into the hangar to face someone who seemed to have her powers, even her style.

'_How do you deal with that?_' she briefly wondered as she rounded the last turn of the staircase.

As she descended the step and walked down the corridor entrance to the hangar, the door was blown in before her. It roiled briefly in a sheath of green and black plasma as it rocked back and forth to rest. A boot stepped through to still it a moment later.

The boot, for its part, struck her as pretty fearsome by itself. It was a glossy black, and down the shin was some kind of metal guard. That brassy guard ran from above the knee all the way to the top of the foot, where it split into three clawed talons which wrapped down over the toe of the boot.

A similarly adorned glove wrapped itself around the door frame a heartbeat later, brassy clawed and spined fingertips gleaming against what Shego thought must be polished black steel. She looked down at her own metal-tipped gloves, one green and the other black, and ignited them to assure herself that she still was in possession of her own abilities.

She was about to hurl a warning shot across the portal when the figure stepped fully through, freezing her in what couldn't be with apprehension, not at all.

The person, if there was a human being in there, was slightly shorter than her, but that made them no less imposing. They looked for the entire world like a demon in a green and black suit of armor. The intruder's hands again drew Shego's attention as they tightened.

Now that she could see them in all their glory; they were less gloves than full gauntlets. The black of the gloved hands each gave way at the wrist to a two-sectioned green and bronzed armor plate that went to near the elbow, with a paldron extending beyond, and wrapped around the forearm. The green sections seemed to have a faint snake-skin pattern embossed into them, causing them to glisten and catch the faint light in the hallway all the more menacingly.

The upper arms of this demon were black, and dived below a pair of two-tiered shoulder pads that were similarly bronze-and-green with embossed scales. Shego noted that the bronze strip that ran up the outside of each arm almost seemed to glow with an inner energy; this tickled something in her brain, which she ignored for the moment as unimportant to what was immediately before her.

Whoever this intruder was, or whatever; they were female. As her eyes moved over from the shoulder-armor, Shego saw breasts in the glossy black of the Demon's chest covering. They were well hidden, though, beneath a massive bronze breast plate that took the form of a hideous mandible, a demonically toothed lower jaw that bound to each shoulder plate and then up her collar, hiding most of her breasts and neck from view.

That mandibular breast plate was matched by an equally demonic helm. Shego's eyes took it in and somewhere deep inside a part of her shuddered, wondering egotistically if this was how others saw her. The helm's face was as wide as the breastplate and equally fanged, hiding its owner's true mouth and features in shadow. Two gleaming red eyes were set into the helm, and they glowed with some inner energy, light flickering within the faintly outlined facets there. Cresting the helmet was a long thick mane of silver-green hair running at least to mid-back, and a pair of massive gold and green banded horns swept up and back from the temples of the troll face.

The intruder's body was clad in some green and black cloth, with was piped with bronze lines, which like the arms, seemed to faintly glow with their own light. The green and black sections fairly alternated, giving the impression of plates of armor, though it clung to her body more like thick leather. Each green section shimmered still with embossed scales, and each black section glistened like latex. Around the form's slender waist was what looked like an honest-to-god utility belt in yellow, with multiple large compartments.

Shego shuddered again, a lot of her typical bravado seemingly absent in the face of this ghastly doppelganger.

"Well… Fancy meeting you here." The voice was obviously electronically altered to be deep, rasping, and it faintly echoed as the intruder turned to face her. The red eyes of the helmet, Shego noticed dumbly, pulsed in a slow rhythm akin to a heartbeat.

"Y-yeah… fancy that." She stuttered for a moment. After a moment though, Shego grabbed herself mentally by the collar and shook herself out of the stunned stupor.

"Wait a minute, who the hell are you anyway?" She scowled now, trading shock for irritation at her seeming counter-part.

"Hmmm. Hadn't really considered that..." That deep rattling voice emerged from the helm once more, echoing across the middle distance metallically.

Shego suppressed the shudder which accompanied that voice. These theatrics were working, she thought. 'A lot better than Drakken's ugly lab coat or Dementor's stupid little helmet.'

"You can call me… The Green Wraith." Shego was a bit busy trying to evaluate this intruder and their seeming imitation of her to realize that the figure seemed to be making it up on the spot.

"Um… Wraith… right…" Her own gloves ignited again and she hurled two bolts at this Wraith, charging to one side as much as the hallway would allow. Best to get this done ASAP.

The Wraith raised her own hands, and swept aside the bolts as though they were nothing. Each talonned gauntlet then ignited in a brighter shade of the same energy and hurled bolts along right behind the jinking mercenary.

Shego growled, feeling the heat and small explosions right at her back as she ran; half along the wall and half the floor, trying to close with her demonic double. Just as she got within arms' reach, however, the wraith switched tactics and punched her with right across the jaw with remarkable speed. It felt like she'd just been clubbed with a metal baseball bat.

The taller woman was sent sprawling against the remains of the hangar's hallway door, and recovered without a second to spare as she leapt away from a bolt of roiling energy that followed her down to the floor of the corridor. She whirled and threw bolts of her own at the head of the demon-armored intruder as she fell back, still off balance.

Those clawed gauntlets flew up, again blocking the energy as though it were nothing more than a water balloon. The pause, though, gave Shego the chance to regain her feet and launch herself bodily at the wraith.

A mechanical growl sounded from beneath the helmet and she saw a woman's jaw grimace as she tackled the Wraith. Unfortunately for Shego, the Green Wraith didn't go down under the tackle. She staggered back a few paces, and then raised her arms over the two of them as they became entwined.

Shego grunted as her grasp on the Wraith was broken. She felt an electrifying dizziness rack through her body as a pair of armored elbows came down on the back of her neck. She ended on her hands and knees, staring at the boots of the Wraith and wobbling, her vision doubled, if not tripled. She groaned inwardly as she watched in slow motion a claw-tipped boot come towards her face, then all was blackness.

"Well, that seemed vaguely familiar," The Wraith's mechanical voice rasped out into the sudden stillness. The voice was followed by a harsh metallic rattling, the Wraith clutching one hand to her breastplate.

Her other hand reached up and the helm was tilted back slightly, revealing one irritated jade green eye and one black satin eye-patch. She scowled, clubbing the wall of the corridor with an armored fist in frustration at her body's steadfast defiance. After a moment spent inhaling from a small delivery device hidden within her collar, she slipped the helm back down over her face and continued down the corridors, growling as much at herself as at the resistance she faced.

The spinning battle tops and hovering laser guns proved even less trouble than Shego, and in a few minutes, Sara had cut a swath through them and into Senior's private hoarde. She'd commandeered a helicopter, and filled it with antiques and gold coins, chuckling at the former owner's tendency towards the anachronistic. Spanish doubloons and gems instead of banks and electronic currency. As if!

'_Oh well, it all fences the same_.' Sara thought to herself as she piloted the purloined 'copter away from the private island. The helicopter carried her away with surprising swiftness, and she decided she'd probably keep it after she unloaded the haul.

The elderly owner of the island, and former owner of the helicopter and its contents, had seem most of what the intruder was doing from his now bunkered and shuddered apartment. This 'Green Wraith' had swept aside his defenses and his impromptu security guard as though they were nothing. All she needed, he thought, was a cape flowing dramatically in the wind to complete her dramatic escape.

In her new helicopter, Sara Smith was thinking the same thing.

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

-_Two weeks later_-

Dr Al Norm was not happy. Actually this was an understatement; he was livid. His face, usually a pale smooth white, seemed now a patch work of different shades of angry red. He yanked at the oddly angled and colored clumps of his hair, hurling his clipboard to a nearby wall in frustration with his free hand and glaring wickedly at the whiteboard he was working at.

First, this Monique person not only seemed to not be failing, but she had actually found flight records showing his helicopter and crew taking off from across Lake Michigan on the night of the incident. It was not much to go on… but it was uncomfortably close in chaotic reasoning charts.

Now Shego's arrest warrant had been nullified by a court in California. Apparently some copy-cat calling herself 'The Green Wraith' was claiming to have beaten Drakken over a sour business deal. She was also claiming several other crimes perpetrated by Shego.

This irregularity meant that he could no longer have Shego hunted down openly. Additionally; now this "Wraith" had stolen weapons from the elder Senior. At least Shego seemed to have diverted her attention from GLE agents in the last month or so. That was perhaps the once optimal aspect of this entire situation.

All of this was simply not normal! Two Shego's! A brown-clad ninja! And just now came word that someone was hacking into Global Justice Enforcement, or trying to at least; but they could not determine who. Whoever it was was _also_ targeting Shego's records with hard attacks.

"Abbey!" Norm practically screamed as he stalked out of his office in the basement of Global Justice Enforcement headquarters. His mismatched boots clip-clopped on the concrete flooring as he stormed through his little annex, fingers clenching and unclenching.

"Abbey! Where are you?" he screamed again, looking for his assistant in an awkward neck twisting manner.

"Over here… no need to shout doc." His assistant, who could be no more than eighteen, was sitting back with her long legs up on the desk, and was leaned forward painting her toe nails an obnoxious blue, occasionally blowing across them.

"Abbey, get your feet off the desk, it's not normal, or proper for an office environment!" the doctor, in his patchwork lab-coat, snapped at her. He picked up another clipboard and eyeing it as if to dare it to give him more bad news.

"Geeze, what decimal got out of place this time, huh?" She eyed him and slowly withdrew her feet from the top of the desk. Sighing when she saw that he was not simply ranting and walking on by, she screwed the brush back into the nail polish and dropped it into the pocket of her own, much more orthodox lab coat.

"Things are not going as predicted Abbey… Call our friends down in the division… We need to massage the numbers… again." He scowled at her, pointing to yet another clipboard. Sometimes it seemed to her as though he could summon those things forth from the ether.

"…yeah, sure thing doc… you're the boss after all." She blinked. She disliked this, especially going behind Director Du's back; but the doc could be very persuasive about why it needed to be his way and his way only. He had this way about him of making you believe that everything would turn out just the way I said it would on those trusty clipboard of his.

She put in the call to Slim and Shorty, and explained, after she was handed the clipboard that told her what to say, that Shego needed to be brought in; _SSCA_.

Then Abbey sighed even more heavily and flopped back into her chair. She reached towards her pocket for the nail polish again, but then a better idea crossed her min, and a matching smile crossed her face. She punched in a five digit extension that very few people in or out of GLE had or even knew existed.

"Will, its Abbey… Got plans for dinner?"

_**-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-**_

_Redux! And a new scene to boot! I think I really managed to smooth over this chapter and give it a degree of flow and polish. _

_Please follow the three R's... __**Read, Review,**__ and __**Recommend!**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Kim Possible: The Darkness Without**_

Redux

Pt 11

By_ Eoraptor_

_Boring legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Company ©2002-2007. Disclaimers at the top of Chapter 1._

_Now, on with the Story..._

_Please follow the three R's; __**Read Review and Recommend.**_

_**Reviews **__equal__** Love**_

_**

* * *

**_

Saved by the bell again, that seemed to be happening a lot lately. A lot of those times seemed to be involving Mrs. Possible, she noticed.

Yet again Anne seemed to be thinking Monique was dating one of the boys.

J, she believed that Anne thought. She kept trying to 'talk' to Monique about it. Not that J wasn't getting to be fairly cute in his _old age_; he even had the whole rugged stubble thing going on. Of course both the twins did, but Jim Possible seemed to wear it better.

Monique guessed she could imagine why Mrs. P was so concerned. The twins were only seventeen after all, not even out of high school yet; and Monique was a young woman with her own career and a bachelor's degree in business.

Yet they had all spent one year together in high school, had known each other for several years, what was the big? If Monique actually _was _dating J or T… wouldn't it be their business and no one else's?

The New Year really didn't seem to be starting out too smoothly at all.

And now a phone call driving her out into the burbs. Ron wanted to 'talk'. Ron didn't do the 'talk'. Monique sighed and pulled into the parking lot of Ron's little apartment center, muttering to herself and gripping the leather wrapped steering wheel.

She honked the horn. Looking around and taking in the contrast between her upmarket SUV nearly fresh off the lot, and the care-worn Chevy's, Kia's, and Toyota's that made up the parking lot's usual population, she shook her head. Ron's was worst off of all perhaps… that rusted out old Explorer. Stoppable really needed to get back into the game, make himself some bank, and get better wheels he had the football moves still.

She honked again, realizing more than two minutes had passed while she'd studied the lower-middle-class cars and trucks in the parking lot.

"Boy… today is not the day to be making me wait on my mexi-fix." She grumbled and rapped her nails on the steering wheel.

She was about to honk a third time when her communicator beeped. Text message only.

['Wade nos']

"Wade Nitrous Oxide?" Monique blinked at the message and mentally scratched her head. About that time Ron was tapping on her passenger window. She sighed and tapped the unlock button, still muttering to herself. "Why does Wade have or need go-gas?"

Ron slid in beside her, and eyed the text that was perplexing her. "What does Wade know?"

"…Oh snap… Today just keeps getting better and better. All right Ron, change of plans. Nacos will have to wait."

"Oh Man! I haven't got my Diablo on yet and the year's already two weeks old."

"_no cheese…"_ came a mole-speak whine from Ron's jacket pocket. Rufus poked his head up and looked about, then eyed the troublesome text message.

"Stow it boys." Monique snapped as she put the car into gear.

Ron blinked and hushed, fastening his seatbelt. That was harsh, he thought, but he wasn't about to say so when she could easily hit him for it. Rufus ducked back into the jacket and hid his face.

Monique headed for Loaded Technology. Ron looked up curiously at the graphic sign, with its symbol of a stylized old school porter with a computer balanced on its head, but no actual name. Once inside the little consulting lab, the trio stopped the first person they saw.

"Hey, we're looking for Wade er- Mr.-, um Doctor Loade." Ron began.

"What do I look like, a receptionist?" The tall blonde turned around, looking more than a little irritated at the mistake. "I can't be a Doctor with a PhD in Robotics just because I'm a woman in heels?"

"Whoa, take it easy Miss Thang. We're just looking for Wade." Monique stepped around, a distinct frown etching her brow. She looked nearly ready to physically ring the answers on Wade's whereabouts from this woman as her hands clenched at her sides.

Ron blinked, looking between the two women. Monique really seemed to have a chip on her shoulder today. He was about to say something, when he blinked again; this time in confusion, and slowly dawning recognition.

"VF?"

The blonde doctor blinked equally back, expressive eyes and beauty mark twitching.

"It's me, Ron! Ron Stoppable?" he wrapped his arms around her in a big impulsive hug.

"Ron! Gosh, I didn't recognize you… You look… great!" Vivian started at the hug and returned it after a surprised moment. She stepped back to better examine the young man who she last remembered as a pasty high school student with a belly and a slouch, and an obsession with the rules of dating.

"Thanks! You look spankin' as always." Ron stepped back after a moment and Rufus popped up, nodding enthusiastically and giving the thumb-claws up. "Oh, this is Monique… Monique, meet Vivian "VF" Porter, Doctor of Robotics. She used to work with KP's dad."

"A pleasure… I'm sure." Monique shook hands, but her frown didn't seem to abate. If anything, she seemed to tense up slightly more.

Ron seemed a bit puzzled. He thought Monique was still uptight about being snapped at by Doctor Porter, but he noticed Monique's eyes going back and forth between Vivian and himself. He was beginning to wonder if the universe were conspiring to confuse him. That happened a lot it seemed.

"What's the matter Monique? Too much blonde in one room for you?" He chuckled a bit uneasily, trying to smooth over the moment and pointing to his own short cut hair.

"Yeah… blonde… Anyway, '_VF_,' where can we find the owner?" Monique seemed to be scowling slightly as she said the blonde's pseudonym.

"He's uh… down the hall in his office." Vivian seemed suddenly a bit uneasy. She looked from Ron to Monique, and after a moment a very faint smirk rolled over her lips. "oh…"

"Thanks. Come on Ron, let's go," Monique practically dragged Ron down the hall, with the leggy robotacist watching after them and still smirking.

"What did she mean 'oh' little buddy?" Ron whispered into his pocket after a moment. Rufus shrugged up at him. He didn't seem to get it either… That was never a god sign in Ron's eyes.

"Get it together girl… what was that all about anyway?' Monique was still pulling Ron along behind her, but her pace had slowed slightly once she was out of the reception area.

She didn't have time to interrogate herself further though, because they came to a door, _the_ door in fact.

'Wade Loade, Co-Owner.' The 'co' etching seemed newer than the rest of the frosted glass on the door.

While Monique was trying to straighten herself up and suddenly seeming much less irritated and much more nervous, Ron just opened the door and went in.

"Wade! Buddy!"

"Huh? Ron! Long time no see!" Wade's dark face was suddenly brightened by a big grin. He got up from behind his desk and came around to shake hands. Ron, used to being quite a bit taller than the computer man, was surprised to be looking him right in the eye.

"Growth spurt?"

"Yeah, kinda…" He chuckled a bit and high-fived Rufus, who scurried up onto his shoulder. He made a bit of a pose to show off his taller and still growing body for the former footballer's approval. "Two inches in four months… what can I say?"

After a moment though, he looked past Ron and his broad smile faded away at who was standing in the door.

"Monique."

Ron felt the chill in the room like a palpable thing. He thought it might be because the two had once dated, and things had not gone well. Mind control had been involved.

"Wade…" Monique wouldn't meet his eyes. Ron thought this was pretty well opposite to what she'd been like when they'd first come into the labratory.

"Am I missing something here? Again?"

"Oh, you mean he doesn't know? Gee Monique… Industrial espionage suits you, you've even got your friends snowballed." Wade practically bristled now, and he walked back around his desk. Pressing a button on its surface; a hologram of what Ron thought was a slightly discolored Ninja with afro-puffs and gold stripes appeared in the air between them. The face was mostly covered by a mask.

"Um… Wade, I can explain." Monique seemed to be wilting as she looked at the hologram, rubbing her arms and holding herself.

It took Ron several seconds to put together the brown eyes depicted on the ninja with the ones staring at the floor.

"Waitaminiute! Is that a battle suit?" He pointed from the transparent person to the one standing next to him.

"It is… and apparently it's not the only one."

The image changed. Ron knew those colors all too well. He scowled darkly, and for a very brief moment, his blue eyes seemed to actually glow with an inner energy.

"Shego." He hissed the name slightly. Rufus actually did hiss, clawing towards the hologram.

"Not Shego… too short." Wade went on after a moment of watching Ron's reaction, "Can you explain that one too, Monique?"

"Actually…" She blinked in mild confusion, frowning and tilting her head. "…no."

"So you're not working for Wraith Technologies, Miss Chocolate Ninja?" Wade frowned, but he seemed to bristle just a bit less. He appeared to take her answer honestly. "I suppose Jim and Tim had something to do with your suit. They never did understand the term _Intellectual Property_."

There was a heavy silence in the room for moment. Ron was looking back and forth between his two friends and the hologram that had made his hackles shoot up. Finally he frowned.

"Monique… why do you have a battle suit?" His tone was almost parental as he stared at her, hands held out in a questioning display.

After a moment, Wade answered for her. "UniquePossiblities Dot com. Miss Ninja here has been playing hero."

Ron sighed heavily and flopped into a handy chair. "Oh Monique… why didn't you tell me?"

"I- I um…" Monique stuttered, a few tears forming at the edges of her brown eyes.

She stared, hoping for absolution, or at least understanding, "Well, at first you were still sick Ron… and then later… Well the longer it went on, the harder it got to be to tell you. You know how that is right? Right"

"And what about the theft of property." Wade still seemed irritated at one of his creations being usurped.

"Hey Wade... take it easy." Ron shot back, a little wearily. "Didn't you base _your_ suit on Centurion and Haephestus?"

"Yeah, six months ago we bought the rights to Centurion too. And haephestus has been public domain since the Diablobots."

"Oh… Still, I bet Monique has a good reason, right Monique?" he looked over to her hopefully.

"Yeah. I want to find out what happened to Kim. Obviously," She suddenly looked with just a little renewed venom around the occupants of the room, "I'm about the only one seems like."

"And the tweebs are helping you?" Ron tried to lead her into continuing her explanation, and not wanting to be lumped into her accusation of a one-woman crusade.

"Yeah… Since the beginning. J and T gave me all sorts of kickin' gear."

"Yeah, they do good work all right. I never would have thought of the spidey-slinger and gloves." Wade conceded after a moment, his frown fading almost completely. "I mean, thought of them, yeah, but not how to successfully implement them."

Ron, for his part, frowned with renewed confusion. What were spidey slingers?

"So you weren't at Señor Senior Senior's island over Christmas, and you didn't have me hack Shego's file at Global Justice?" the still slightly round hacker probed, frowning at the hologram of the green character hovering over his desk.

"No… I was at Mr. and Mrs. P's place with J and T. And again the next morning. By the way, Ron was there Chrismas night, he can confirm that if nothing else." She thumbed at the blond boy, remembering the awkward scene at the Possible's doorway.

"…Okay then… So, the real question is… who is this, and why do they want to be Shego?" Ron pointed at the hologram that was still giving him a case of the hackles; after a moment of introspection at Monique's side comment.

"Yeah, and how did they solve the plasma problem with the suit?" Wade grumbled a bit jealously. "That thing puts out a lot of power, without being much bigger than the Mark One or Monique's suit."

Rufus scurried down off of Wade's shoulder and started pacing around the hologram, rubbing his chin slightly in consideration and Hmm'ing.

"Vivian," Wade pressed his intercom button, causing Viv to appear in holo-form as well, "Didn't you design some body armor pieces for someone from 'Banshee Personal Protection' before I canceled the contract?"

"Yeah Wade. Slim line night-vision too, damn that was sweet… one of my better jobs. Why?"

"It's looking like we just sold some expensive toys to a criminal, that's why. It looks like Banshee may be 'Wraith Technologies.'"

"Oh crap." Came the reply over the intercom, Vivian's holographic head frowning as it floated next to the green goblin.

"Yeah, my thoughts too. Look, can you figure a way to track any of that down?"

"I'm on it, cutie."

Wade turned his attention back to Ron and Monique. "Wraith Technologies hired Vivian and I to do some work a few months ago. That's how we hooked up, in fact."

"So I see, 'cutie.'" Monique smirked just a bit. She seemed a bit relieved to be at least partially off the hook. "That's quite the _business partnership_…"

Wade gave her a sour look and went on. "Yeah. Anyway, they wanted weird stuff… nano-polymers like I used in the Mark One battle suit, uranium power packs, neurological controllers."

"That's why I thought Monique was selling my stuff. I found out about her little 'hobby" two weeks ago, just before I found out about this Green Wraith character. Finding two battle suits based on my design running around when I haven't built one in three years makes a guy kind of paranoid. Especially after dealing a shady outfit like Wraith Technologies."

"I'm really sorry, I'm sure T and J never would have built me the suit if they knew you'd be this tweaked about it."

"If it's for Kim, I don't care if they stole my left nut." He dismissed her apology and continued.

"I started getting suspicious of Wraith Tech when they wanted me to hack into GJE and change records. I dropped them shortly after that and Vivian and I used the money we made from what we _did_ sell them to start Loaded Technology."

"It's a nice place Wade…" Ron nodded and smiled a bit, still eyeing the hologram that slowly rotated, showing the ugly troll-looking character. He wondered if anyone else in the world found it odd that a seventeen year-old boy part-owned a successful technology consulting business.

"Yeah, the Wraith paid well. Anyway, here's the thing. After Wraith asked me to hack Shego's stuff, I found this… Ron… um… I don' know how to say this, but I think Wraith may have had something to do with the explosion. They wanted me to get rid of this image. I finally found it last week after looking for three months."

The hologram changed to a grainy photograph that continued to rotate. It took Ron a moment to make out what was being shown to him. "It was taken by a security camera on the roof of the Chicago Board of Trade. Why a security camera was pointing at the sky I have no clue, aside from someone wanting to watch 'the fireworks'."

What the four saw was washed out by a blossom of light that they all recognized with grim memory. After a moment, a green outline appeared in order to sharpen the blurry edges of the still frame. It showed a black helicopter with a 'W' on the nose and side.

Ron blinked. He hadn't seen or heard a helicopter that night; and he remembered that night as though someone had written it directly into his brain in indelible ink. Monique though, interrupted his train of thought and derailed the discussion after moment.

"So, how much do you know about what the twins and I do?" She eyed Wade for a moment, wondering if his reputation for knowing things he wasn't supposed to was still valid.

"Enough to know you're more than a little clumsy at it." He smirked, remembering the escapades he'd heard about with her running all about the south-east chasing leads on Shego between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

"Oh yee of little faith..." was all she said in response, an insulted smirk on her lips.

"Wait wait wait wait!" Ron was looking fairly flustered at the change of topic. "You mean to tell me you've been sitting on this stuff for a week, and you didn't bother to tell anyone? Harsh!"

Wade looked down to the desk for a moment, trying to collect a response. "Well… It's not a lot to go on, really. It's just a helicopter and a bunch of blurry pixels. I… I didn't want to get everyone worked up over a coincidence if it turned out to be a traffic copter."

Ron wasn't mollified, but he couldn't come up with a reasonable argument at the moment.

_**-KP-**_

Sara was looking at the same picture of tower and copter, brought in from a small backdoor via one of her early emails to Wade and Vivian. It was a sweet little hack, and fortunately had yet to be discovered in the Loaded Technologies systems.

She didn't know that Wade, Ron, Monique, and Rufus were at that moment also looking at the image. Nor was she particularly concerned with the black helicopter hovering in the frame. What evidence she _was_ concerned with getting rid of was far more subtle than the blurry 'copter.

There, near the edge of the building, just below the blossom of orange light atop the Sears Tower, was a small group of purple and black pixels. That group of pixels was falling onto one of the stepped roofs of the Tower's tiered design. That group of pixels was supposed to be dead, vaporized, in fact, and shouldn't be visible plummeting from the roof to a relatively safe landing..

The picture needed to be deleted.

She made a note in her PDA to have that taken care of… again. When Wade had abruptly decided he no longer wanted to work for Wraith Technologies, she'd been left slightly in the lurch for technological expertise. Doubly so when he'd hired Vivian Porter out from under her.

It had taken several weeks to head-hunt a hacker approaching Wade's level of expertise. Finding someone who could repair her two prosthetic arms had been only slightly less troublesome. VF's robotic arm technology was years ahead of the prosthetic limbs developed by the medical field specialists who were more concerned with making a light weight power-friendly arm than making one that did what a human arm was supposed to do. And that didn't even approach the special functions that her arms included which were unknown to Load or Porter.

Sara stroked her 'dress casual' arm thoughtfully for a moment. Yes, it weighed more than Kim's flesh-and-blood left arm had… But it was ninety percent functional, which was far more than could be said for the gaudy beige prosthesis she had worn out of Jefferson County Community Hospital months before.

With a prideful sigh, Sara thought back more than seven months, to escaping that little rural community clinic.

_-June of the previous year-_

Sara lay in her hospital bed, waiting. It was three twenty-two A.M. on a warm June morning. The full moon had just crested the horizon and was bathing the lightly forested landscape beyond her window in silvery light. When the alarm clock next to her monitoring bed had clicked to three twenty-three, she made her move.

She heard the duty nurse down the hall get up to check another patient who had been brought to the hospital's ICU a few days earlier. Once Sara's keen ears told her that the nurse was safely down the hallway of the rural facility, she slipped her bare feet out of the bed sheets and nestled them carefully into her slippers.

She then carefully made her way down the corridor; avoiding any open doors to adjoining rooms as best she could by darting across them before resuming a slow and cautious pace. She could hear all sorts of sounds in the still of the night; the slow ticking of old mechanical clocks in the hallways taunted her to continue, the rustling of sheets as a sleeping inmate- or patient that would still her heart and her breathing for long seconds. She had almost screamed when the duty nurse's desk phone had rung once and then gone to voice mail. Raking her hand through her hair, she growled and tried to get ahold of herself, tugging free a few short crimson strands in the process.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she made it to the door to the smoking porch, and god how old-school was this hospital to still have one? She looked at the alarm clock, which she had pocketed in her robe.

Damn, three twenty-nine… She'd been a little too careful. Too much time had passed. Carefully, she opened the door to the smoking porch, and listened to the swaying breeze outside. Yes… damn it, she could already hear it; the steady thump thump thump of a helicopter approaching.

Sara knew it wasn't life-flight, because if it were the entire hospital would be buzzing with activity; and given its small size she'd be very aware of that. She threw the door open, and darted across the sidewalk towards the Emergency Room doors.

This was the risky part. She could be easily seen now. She threw open the door to the ER and swept over to the nursing station, which was thankfully deserted at the moment just as she'd planned. She threw the small switches that turned on the tarmac lights for the heli-pad just outside, and at the same time disconnected the ground radio. She whirled and darted back out the door, already hearing the footsteps of the ER nurse returning with her nightly coffee.

Back outside, and already panting for breath in excitement, she started to cough violently. She grabbed at her robe, frantically patting both the large front pockets for their contents and failing to find the small rescue inhaler. In the throes of her violent coughing, it took her a moment to realize that while she was using both hands, only her right would actually report back to her brain if it felt something.

Still coughing hard, gagging now on the phlegm that was being forced up, she angrilly thrust her right hand into the left pocket and found the inhaler. She held it to her lips, depressed the little gas cylinder on top, and inhaled deeply.

After a few seconds, her lungs' spasming relaxed slightly, but it was too late. The lights on the tarmac and the noise she had made coughing up her damaged lungs had alerted the ER nurse. She saw the door beginning to open and raised her arms in a fighting stance.

Sara didn't associate the suddenly stronger breeze with her ride until it had forced the door of the ER closed in an instant hurricane, smacking the triage nurse in the nose in the process. She turned, spied the blue and silver private bell-jet copter landing on the tarmac, and wiped at her green eye as it teared up from the dust being blown at her.

She ran towards the chopper, and as the door slid open, she reached up with her left arm to be lifted in. In an embarrassing moment, she gasped as the plastic-coated left arm came free of her stump with an audible pop. Groaning at herself, she reached up with her right arm for the other hand being offered. This time she was successfully pulled in, and she snatched the phony arm away from the chagrinned man who had first tried to help her in.

The expensive private helicopter lifted away, ignoring frantic calls from the now-reconnected ER nurse and from local air traffic control. It stayed well under radar level, and Sara could see the light forests of northern Illinois roll by only a few dozen feet below.

She sat back into the jump-seat and inhaled deeply, taking a second hit off of her little inhaler. Allowing the rhythmic thump thump of the helicopter's blades through the heavily insulated cabin to lull her, she rested for several moments before pulling on the headset which she'd been handed.

"Miss Smith, welcome aboard… Your new employer is looking forward to more of your information services. Please, enjoy your flight."

* * *

_**Author's notes additional**__; So we're just starting to bring the threads of the story together ;) Why was Monique so pissed off when they got to Loaded Technology? Is Sara Smith ever again going to be Kim Possible? And who broke her out in the first place?Will the author stop using the Socratic Method and answer these questions in the next chapter? Maybe. Stay tuned next time; Same Kim time, same Kim channel!_

New Notes: Obviously, this story was written a few years back, so some things may start to seem a bit dated, such as the Sears Tower still being the Sears Tower, and not Willis Tower. No tremendous changes in this particular chapter, just a lot of cleanup (about 1,200 more words worth). Coming up, however, will be some more cleanup and new scenes as I fix up some awkward timing jumps.


End file.
